A Rage for Revenge
by supernaturalsam
Summary: Someone from the past comes back for the Winchester brothers, and this time he has a little help. Sequel to Unhinged. COMPLETED JULY 28, 2008!
1. Chapter 1

**Someone from the past comes back for the Winchester brothers, and this time he has a little help. Sequel to Unhinged.**

**Author's Note: **Yes, this is the sequel to _Unhinged_. If you remember the ending, Gordon appeared and helped Robbie out of his situation. This means for the sake of this story, Gordon will be AU while everything else remains the same, i.e., the deal and anything else that may have happened to the brothers up to 3.02 The Kids Are All Right. If you haven't read _Unhinged_, you may need to do so in order to get familiar with Robbie.

Updates are going to happen as I can get to them, but I have quite a few things on my plate right now so I'm not sure how often that will be. I am still currently working on _Livin' On The Edge_ and working on the Virtual Season, but I will be writing on this as time allows. I hope you enjoy this and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think.

**A few shout-outs:** To Bayre, Sojourner, and Tree for keeping me on my toes and letting me know what works and what doesn't. To Tree, for her wonderful insight on the world of arson and helping me keep facts straight so I don't come off as a bumbling idiot. Thanks so much guys—I really don't know what I would do without you.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing—nada, zip, zilch…except Robbie, but I'm not sure if that's something to brag about…

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Robbie Mallette felt a power building up, coursing though his body as if he was charged by an electrical current. The blade felt good in his hands, almost as if it was an extension of himself. It was a weapon he'd come to love in the past few months, one he felt the closest with. It was much better than a gun, any day of the week.

It amazed the young man how something so light and beautiful could be so deadly. The late evening sunlight reflected off the blade, almost giving it an effervescent glow. Robbie smiled as he gripped the blade in a regular reverse grip, making a fist around the handle, the edge facing outwards. There were no nerves now—he couldn't afford to hesitate. The only thing that would result in would be his death. Instead, he felt a thrill of anticipation as he watched his opponent, his smile becoming feral as he struck out with the blade.

His opponent deftly sidestepped the swing of the blade, shaking his head in disappointment. Robbie growled low in his throat as he brought the knife up once again, swiping wildly. His opponent ducked out of the way, crouching as he brought his leg out in an arc, knocking Robbie's feet out from under him. The mousy twenty-three year old fell hard to the ground, the knife falling from his grip as the wind was knocked out of him. Through a haze of pain, Robbie looked up as his opponent squatted next to him.

"Rookie move, Robbie." Gordon Walker stood up and extended a hand to the downed man. Robbie glared at him before grudgingly taking the proffered hand. "You can't go back at your opponent like that. It makes it too easy for them to get a few shots in of their own because you're not thinking anymore. You're letting your anger fuel you and that will get you killed."

Robbie refused to look at his mentor as he dusted off his jeans. "I thought you said for me to use my anger."

"Use it, yes, but you have to learn to channel it. Make it work for you, not against you. It shows your opponent weakness and he will use that to finish you." Gordon picked up the knife and handed it hilt side back to Robbie. "We're finished for today."

Robbie finally looked up at Gordon, grudgingly taking the knife. "I don't see why we have to keep training like this. We're ready for this—we're wasting time. I mean, hell, it's been three months already."

The vampire hunter sighed. "I told you the Winchesters were different. They're skilled and you can be sure as hell they're watching their backs."

"But we could have caught them by surprise and finished them already. I'm tired of waiting around with our thumbs up our asses."

Gordon shook his head. "You don't seem to understand, Robbie. Dean—he's like a guard dog when it comes to that little brother of his. He's not going to let you get to Sam again without hurting you or killing you next time. And Sam…don't get me started on Sam Winchester."

Robbie rolled his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. "I know this already—Sam is evil, so you keep saying."

Gordon arched a brow. "He is evil—Sammy's going to bring about the end of the world."

"You've been saying that the last three months, but I just don't understand it. He's a normal guy, just like you and me. If he was evil, don't you think he would have done something when I snatched him?"

Gordon chuckled, deep in his throat. "He's got you fooled, just like everyone else. He can make everyone see and believe what he wants them to."

"So, he sat there and allowed me to play with his life?"

"He had to keep up his charade."

Robbie shook his head as he fingered the sharp blade. He'd been hearing Gordon spew the same crap about Sam ever since the vampire hunter found him in the old Eclipse Hotel back in his hometown of Travers, Arkansas. Since that time, they'd been on the road keeping a distanced eye on the Winchesters and training. Gordon said he wanted Robbie to be ready for when they met up with the brothers again, he didn't want him caught by surprise. In between all the training, Gordon told Robbie all about Sam and the talk among the demon world Sam was meant to lead them in the fight against humanity. Robbie had to admit when Gordon first told him about this, he laughed in the older man's face.

Of course, that had only angered Gordon and resulted in a black eye for Robbie. It was then Robbie learned to be careful about what he said to and about Gordon. To be honest though, Robbie didn't want to upset the hunter. Gordon was the closest thing he'd had to a family in a long time. He was exactly what Robbie needed after the failed attempt with Dean. Gordon was filling that hole in Robbie's life and he couldn't be happier with the friend he'd found—the brother he'd found.

Robbie followed Gordon as the hunter picked up his black canvas bag from the ground and they walked towards the small clapboard home they'd been lucky enough to stumble across. The white exterior was fading and the paint chips were flaking, covering the ground below it like snowflakes. There was a fence surrounding the property, but it looked to be on its last limb as it tried to remain standing. The porch was barely stable enough for anyone to walk across it, so they'd resorted to using the back door. The yard was unkempt and it seemed as if the last time it was introduced to a lawn mower had to have been at least a decade ago.

While the house had all the negatives, the two positives were that it was in the middle of nowhere and the rent was next to nothing—in fact, the owner seemed ecstatic to have someone finally live in it, so much so they'd thrown in the basic furnishings for free. The house gave them the freedom they needed for the training and they didn't have to worry about anyone walking up on them. Gordon had taken all the necessary precautions to make sure they were well-isolated. He'd told Robbie they couldn't afford to be out in the open, especially when Gordon just got out of prison. He'd never told Robbie why he'd been in prison, only it was because of Sam. Robbie decided it would be best not to pressure the man because he saw how quickly Gordon could become angry. 

"You want a beer?" Robbie asked as he put his blade down on the counter. He went over to the refrigerator and glanced back at Gordon as he held the door open.

"Sure." Gordon placed his bag on the floor and sank down into a worn wooden chair. Robbie plucked out two beers and after handing one of the brown bottles to Gordon, sat down across from him. The two men sat in companionable silence as they each nursed their beers. A slight ticking from a cheap wall clock was the only sound to be heard as they were lost in their own thoughts. 

Robbie was tired of the sitting around and waiting. He wanted to be out there doing something, exacting his revenge against the Winchester brothers. If it was up to him, he would have gone after them as soon as Gordon released him, but the hunter convinced him otherwise. Seeing as he really had no other option and going after Dean and Sam immediately after he was free would have been foolhardy, Robbie agreed. But his patience was starting to wear thin—he needed the action, he needed to satiate his hunger before it consumed him.

Almost as if he was sensing Robbie's troubled thoughts, Gordon spoke up. "I think you're right. I think it's time we step up to the plate."

Robbie's face broke into a brilliant smile. "Really?"

Gordon nodded as he took another sip of his beer. "Yeah—for the most part, I think you're ready. Besides, I'm gonna be there beside you, every step of the way."

"So, we can go after them?" Robbie tried to mask his eagerness, but these were the words he'd been waiting to hear for the past three months. He was finally going to get his chance at the Winchesters, teach them a lesson they'd never forget.

Gordon held up a calming hand. "I didn't say that. Like I told you earlier, you can't just go after the Winchesters. We have to bring them to us."

Robbie frowned. "How are we supposed to do that? It's not like they're gonna come waltzing up to us just because we tell them to."

"You're right, which is why we need to draw them in. Use their weakness against them."

"What's that?"

"Human life—you threaten that, take it away and they'll come running just like the bleeding hearts they are." 

"You're talking about killing someone."

Gordon gave a casual shrug. "War is bloody and uncaring—sometimes you have to be willing to risk a life to accomplish the greater good." His dark eyes narrowed. "What are you worried about anyway? You've killed before and almost killed Sam without any remorse."

"I know and I'm not saying I have a problem with it if it will get me what I want."

"Good."

"But how are you gonna do it? I mean, it's not gonna be easy."

Gordon nodded. "You're right, it's not. You just leave everything to me and be ready. Once I get the ball rolling, we'll be moving fast."

"I'm ready…you know I am." Robbie's face hardened as he leveled his gaze at Gordon. "It's the only thing I've been able to think about."

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Gordon Walker smiled to himself as he watched Robbie shuffle off into his bedroom. The boy was eager, reminding Gordon of himself when he first signed up for the life of a hunter. Robbie wanted the thrill of the kill and the vampire hunter was determined to fulfill the young man's wish. He could give Robbie what he wanted and so much more out of life, and that began with the Winchesters.

Robbie's thirst for vengeance almost rivaled Gordon's in more ways than one. Robbie wanted payback for the way the brothers humiliated him; Gordon wanted the same thing, especially after Sam had the gall to turn him over to the police. Robbie wanted Dean to feel the loss of a brother; Gordon wanted Dean to feel the pain of loss as well. Robbie wanted Sam to pay for ruining his chances at a life with Dean; Gordon wanted Sam to pay before he could bring about the destruction of mankind. Maybe the reasons weren't exactly the same, but the end result would be nonetheless—the Winchesters needed to be stopped and pay for their actions.

Gordon pretty much had everything worked out in his head and he had to admit, it was a damn brilliant plan. He would play on the Winchesters' weakness and use it against them. If there was anything to know about the brothers, it was that they showed their weakness to their enemies—the destruction of human life. Dangle it out in front of them, and they'd come riding in on their white horses, ready to save the day. And what were a couple human lives if it meant Gordon Walker brought down the very being that threatened humanity?

The seasoned hunter knew all about the demons being released from Hell back in Wyoming a few weeks ago. He knew the Winchesters played a very important part in releasing them. He knew many hunters were gunning for the brothers and he knew he could use that to his advantage. All it would take was one phone call and things could finally get on track.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, Gordon flipped it open and scrolled through his contacts. Coming to a number, he smiled as he pressed the TALK button and waited for the other end to pick up. After two rings, he heard a gruff voice answer.

"_Hello?"_

"Peterson…it's Walker. I think it's time I collected on that favor you owe me."

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_One week later…_

Robbie let out a deep sigh as he rotated his neck until he heard a series of satisfying pops. He'd been working hard for the last couple of hours, getting the napalm mixture to just the right consistency. Gordon had provided him with everything he needed and left him with precise instructions. If Robbie didn't follow them to a T, then it could result in his death and it would put all of their careful planning down the crapper. The young man couldn't begin to let Gordon down, especially when the hunter told him this would be the big event, the one to draw the Winchesters in once and for all. 

For the last week, he and Gordon had been causing quite a stir around the small town of Oneida, Kentucky—namely a series of fires. Nothing major, really, unless you considered a couple of homeless men as unfortunate victims something to frown upon. As Gordon said, there were bound to be some casualties in order to achieve the endgame. Robbie wanted the endgame, more so than anything else and he would do whatever it took to get there. 

Adjusting the cheap oxygen mask on his face, Robbie once again grabbed up the large wooden spoon and stirred the mixture. It was tedious work and something he was taking pride in. Then again, Robbie Mallette always took pride in his work. If anyone went back and spoke to his teachers, they would say the young man was a good student who took pride in everything he set his mind to and this would be no exception. Finally the napalm got to the right consistency and Robbie stood up to get the next part of his plan ready.

Grabbing the light bulb off the small table, Robbie began the painstaking work of drilling a small hole into the top of it. After that, he grabbed a small container of black powder he'd extracted from some shotgun shells earlier, and being careful, he poured the powder through the small hole until it covered the filament. Smiling, he grabbed a small piece of tape and covered the hole so the powder wouldn't stream out before he could complete his assignment. 

Robbie didn't bother cleaning up his mess as he grabbed up his necessary materials and transported them out to his car. There was time to clean up later, after he was finished with what he needed to do. Pulling his keys from his pocket, Robbie climbed into the small hatchback and drove towards his intended target. 

It only took about fifteen minutes before he arrived at a small one-story home with a white exterior framed by royal blue shutters. A well-kept garden full of colorful daisies, pansies, and daylilies were on either side of the small wooden staircase that led up to a blue door to match the shutters. A large oak tree enveloped the front of the home in shade and a small carport was off to the right. What made the house really stand out though was the fact it was secluded. The nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile away so Robbie had complete privacy.

Robbie scouted many homes for the last week but for some reason he always came back to this one. He'd been watching it for the last couple of days, in order to get the routine down and it amazed him that the family of a single mom and two boys always followed the same pattern. That's what was wrong with the human race—they became accustomed to the same routine day in and day out, never thinking to break the monotony, never thinking someone may be watching them…studying them. Then again, when people did that it made what Robbie had to do a lot easier.

Looking at his watch, Robbie saw it was quickly approaching nine o'clock in the morning. He knew the family was well and gone—the mother off to her nine-to-five job at the local pharmacy and the two boys were in school. He would have until at least four to get everything in place just how he wanted. Again, everything had to be perfect and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes, even the smallest one. There was no room for error here—Robbie knew that.

Pulling up his car into a small inlet a few yards away from the house, Robbie got out and gathered up his materials. He stood still for a few moments, listening for any approaching cars and when he heard none, he quickly made his way towards the house. Walking around to the back door, he put down the container and pulled out the lock pick Gordon gave him. Thanks to Gordon's instruction, Robbie had the door open in a matter of seconds. As he opened the window-paned door he heard the soft, steady beep of the alarm system. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the slip of paper containing the code he'd gotten after hacking into the security company's website. Keying it in, the system gave one more beep, indicating it was now disarmed. 

Stuffing the paper back in his pocket, Robbie darted out the door and brought in the napalm and light bulb. Setting it down on the table, he took a look around the bright, tidy kitchen. This would be the best place to achieve his goal, where most of the impact needed to occur. After watching the family, he knew they came through the back door and into the kitchen—at least, they had for the past two nights. Even if they changed it up, they'd still have to come through the kitchen eventually. Everyone knew it was the central hub of the home.

Leaving the kitchen, Robbie bypassed the living room and made his way towards the small, narrow hallway. Seeing two doors to the left, he tried the first one and found himself in a boy's bedroom. From the looks of the baseball motif, it was obvious it was the younger boy's room. It was confirmed for him when he saw a couple of awards certificates on the wall made out to Micah Jennings. From his intel he'd gathered, Robbie knew Micah was the youngest child and Adam was the oldest. Spotting a picture on the small dresser beside the twin bed, Robbie picked it up and stared at it—a snapshot of the brothers together at a baseball game, their smiling faces oblivious to the fate awaiting them.

Micah was the reason he'd picked the family in the first place. It was almost as if the boy had been a sign from above and Robbie knew not to take what was handed to him for granted. The shaggy haired boy resembled Sam so much, it was almost uncanny and it even sent a shiver down Robbie's spine. It only brought his past failures bubbling up to the surface, but Robbie would correct that mistake now. He would show them all he wasn't a failure; he could finish anything he set his mind to.

Removing the picture from the frame, Robbie folded it in half and put it in his pocket. He always liked to keep pictures as mementos—some may define that as a sick habit, but Robbie liked to think of it as holding on to memories. Speaking of memories, Robbie spied a baseball cap hanging on the foot railing of the bed. Picking it up, he saw it could be adjusted. Fixing it to fit him, he slipped it on his head and smiled. Leaving the room, and shutting the door behind him, he moved down to the next room. 

Opening the door, he saw this room didn't have a specific décor—music and anime posters dotted the walls and clothes were strewn all over the carpeted floor. Miscellaneous items lined the desk, which also housed an early model computer. A thin coat of dust covered the small television screen which was sitting on a small rollaway cart.

Skipping past everything else, Robbie went straight for the closet and opened the sliding door. Many clothes hangers were bare and Robbie guessed all the clothes in the room once resided inside the closet. Going through the remaining articles of clothing, the young man came to a stop when he spotted a letterman's jacket. Removing it from the hanger, he saw it was large enough to fit his small frame. Sliding his arms into it, Robbie burrowed himself inside it, imagining Adam wearing the garment. The musty smell of sweat remained in the fabric of the collar and Robbie drank it up like it was an intoxicating drink.

Reluctantly shrugging out of the jacket, Robbie placed it back where he found it. Letting out a sigh, he left the room and walked back towards the kitchen. He really needed to get things set up before he ran out of time. Gordon told him this wasn't something he could fool around with—he had to take his time and not make any mistakes or the entire thing could blow up in his face—no pun intended. Moving over to the container of napalm, Robbie took the lid off and began to spread it out throughout the home, making sure he coated the kitchen generously. After he finished and making sure the light switch was off, he brought a barstool over to the main light fixture in the kitchen and removed the light bulb.

Stepping down from the stool, he grabbed his modified bulb from the table and carefully screwed it into the socket. Jumping down once again, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. His work here had been nothing but perfection, something to be appreciated by all. There was now only one thing left to do—wait for the family to return and watch.

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Adam Jennings sighed as his mom pulled the car to a stop. He didn't understand why she was being so stubborn. He was fifteen years old for crying out loud, plenty old enough to go to the movies with his friends this weekend.

"Mom, the guys are counting on me to go with them."

Helen Jennings let out her own sigh, but it was a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. "Adam, I am not going to tell you again—I cannot let you go to the movies without parental supervision. You know I have to work this weekend and I need you to stay at home with your brother."

"I can take care of myself," Micah pouted from the backseat.

"I'm sure you can, honey, but you're only eleven. You're still too young to stay home alone."

"Why can't Grandma come over and watch Micah? Why do I always have to do it?"

"Adam, please don't start this argument again."

"It's not fair, Mom!" It's not that Adam minded watching his little brother, it was just sometimes he needed a break. He just wished his mom could see that every now and then. He had friends he wanted to do things with and it was hard to do that when he was constantly baby-sitting Micah.

"There are a lot of things in life that isn't fair, Adam. I could talk about that one for days as a matter of fact." Pushing the door open, Helen glanced at her oldest son. "Look, honey, I promise I'll take you and your friends to the movies next weekend, okay?"

"Whatever." Adam opened his door and barely glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "I'm going to go check the mail."

The young man quickly put distance between himself and his mother. They always seemed to be at odds with each other lately and quite honestly, the teen was getting tired of it. It's not that he meant to continuously clash with her—he knew she worked hard to provide for their small family, but he needed his space as well. Didn't she know how hard he worked in school? Didn't he deserve the same kind of break she did?

Coming to a stop in front of the small black mailbox, Adam opened it up and pulled out the mail. Browsing through it, he saw it was the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, along with a birthday card for Micah from their aunt in Florida. His little brother would be twelve in a few days and it was the only thing the shaggy haired boy could talk about. Smiling, Adam stepped away from the box just as a loud explosion echoed all around him and the hot wave of the blast knocked him off his feet, causing the mail to scatter.

Rising shakily to his feet, Adam's eyes widened in horror as he saw his house enveloped in flames. "No," he whispered. "No. No. NOOOOOO!"

"MOM!" Adam raced towards his house as tears streaked down his face. "MICAH!"

Flames licked greedily out of every window and Adam saw glass littered the ground everywhere, not to mention the front door had blasted off its hinges. The teen came to a stop a few yards away from the house, the intensity of the flames too hot for him to tread any closer. The rational part of his brain told him it was too late for his family but the irrational part was telling him there was still time to save them—he had to save them!

Once again, he tried to get closer to the burning home but the intensity of the flames kept pushing him away. He tried this several times but continued to remain unsuccessful. Dropping to his knees, sobs began to rack his body and he welcomed them. He needed to feel something and pain and loss were the two most prominent emotions competing for the top spot. Even as he heard the sound of approaching sirens in the distance, it did nothing for him. No matter what anyone did, it was too late.

It was too late for everything.

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Robbie watched from a safe distance as the small home continued to go up in flames. He noticed the oldest Jennings boy at the mailbox before the explosion and for a fleeting moment he panicked. He even considered knocking the kid out and placing him in the house, but realized maybe it was better this way. It would be good for the kid to mourn the loss of his family, just as he had all those years ago when James died. Robbie shouldn't have to be the only one to lose the ones he loved; others deserved that loss as well.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he figured he should get out of there before the cavalry arrived. He'd called in anonymously to emergency services, figuring it was the least he could do for Adam. After all, Robbie didn't want people to think he was completely heartless. Besides, living so far out in the country he was sure it would have been hours before anyone noticed the burning home.

Walking to his car still parked in the tiny inlet, he got in and drove away. He was proud of what he'd accomplished today. Sure, one of the kids was still alive but it was nothing to worry about as the boy never saw him. In fact, Robbie wouldn't even have to mention that little tidbit to Gordon. It was better he didn't know anyway—if Gordon had shown him anything, it was he didn't like loose ends. Gordon would kill the boy without a second thought.

Things were progressing very well indeed. Now all they had to do was wait for the Winchesters to rise to the bait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I've already got an update out, but don't get use to it being this quick! I already had this chapter half-written before I posted chapter one. Thanks for all the reviews...I'm so happy to see ya'll are excited about Robbie's return!**

**For those of you wanting some Winchester boys, you've got it in this chapter! As always, I ask you to let me know what you think! **

**Many thanks to Bayre for the beta!**

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"_I could help you save your brother."_

Ruby's words replayed in Sam Winchester's head like a broken record, never allowing him a moment's respite. Was it really that easy to help Dean, trusting a demon? Was this the answer the young hunter was looking for in order to save Dean? Sam didn't believe in luck and he sure as hell wasn't about to begin now because it still came down to one thing: Ruby was a demon.

There was no way a demon could be good. Sure, Sam gave the benefit of a doubt to a pack of vampires, but that was different. He wasn't entirely sure how it was different, maybe it was because he was able to convince himself of the difference. But never in their line of work had Sam ever heard of a demon doing any good. They were in their gig for death and destruction, nothing more, nothing less. Why should Ruby be any different? Then again, Sam couldn't overlook the fact she'd already helped him not once, but twice now and she wanted to continue to do so. Could she really be in it just to help him? Help him save Dean?

While he was on the subject of Dean—how in the world was he supposed to tell his brother a demon may be the answer to all of their problems? Dean had a very low tolerance for anything supernatural and demons ranked number one on his hit list. There was no way Dean was about to accept help from her, no matter how much Sam pleaded with him. Once Dean's mind was set to something, there was no changing it. Dean Winchester was as stubborn as they come—ask anyone who knew him.

Another thing bothering Sam was how their mother was tied into everything. He still hadn't told Dean what the Yellow-Eyed Demon showed him back in Cold Oak. He wasn't sure how Dean would handle that, knowing that their mom—the woman he held in high respect above any other—knew the ancient demon. Add to what he'd found out from Ruby and it may pretty much send his brother over the proverbial edge.

"_It's all about you. What happened to your mom, what happened to her friends. They're trying to cover up what he did to you…"_

Sam didn't even want to think about what Dean would say if he ever found out all the deaths surrounding their mom, her friends, and family were tied to him somehow. He hoped Dean wouldn't believe it, he would still stand by him, but Sam just didn't know.

"Hey, you okay over there?"

Sam jerked in surprise at the sound of Dean's voice. He glanced over to see his brother was glancing at him in concern, all the while keeping his eyes on the road at the same time. "What?"

"Are you okay? I've only been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes, but you were off in your own world." Dean flashed him a cocky grin. "You thinking about a chick or something?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I was just…thinking."

"Seriously, dude, I have no idea how you can possibly sit there and think with all that other stuff you have in that head of yours."

"As opposed to you whose only thoughts revolve around the nearest bar and which woman will be lucky enough to get into bed with you next?"

"Hey, those are some very important thoughts right there—I mean, it can't just be any bar and the women have to meet a certain criteria."

"What would that be? Whether they can stand up on their own after one beer and if they can remember your name or not?"

Dean's smile became mischievous as he looked over at Sam. "Believe me, Sammy, if the sex is great they can call me any name they want."

Sam cringed. "I really don't need to be having this conversation with you."

"What? The least I can do is impart some of my vital knowledge with you before I…you know."

"Yeah," Sam said softly. Silence grew in the car once more before Sam cleared his throat. "So, what about Lisa?"

Dean shrugged. "What about her?"

"Come on, dude, I saw the way you looked at her. There was something there and you can't put it off to just a minor fling from eight years ago."

Dean shook his head. "Maybe there is, Sammy, but there's nothing I can do about it. I wouldn't be able to give her and Ben the life they deserve especially since I'm running on a ticking clock as it is."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, you know…unless I find a way out of it for you."

"I'm not starting this conversation with you again, Sammy." Dean spied a gas station and nodded his head towards it. "I need to fill up." Pulling off the exit, Dean drove the Impala into the mom-and-pop gas station and cut the engine. "You need anything?"

Sam shook his head and watched as his brother pushed out of the car and walked around to the gas pump. He really wished Dean could have that life with Lisa and Ben—he deserved that after everything he'd done and given up. Dean should be able to settle down with a woman he loved and one who loved him back, one who wasn't just a one-night stand. It wasn't fair this life was dangled in front of his face and yanked away just as quickly because of Sam. Dean would never do anything for himself, not until he was sure Sam was okay and safe and the shaggy-haired man didn't like taking that away from Dean.

Before Sam could dwell on his thoughts any longer, Dean's cell phone began to ring in the seat beside him. Sam was going to call out to his brother, but he saw Dean retreating into the store. As it rang its fourth and final ring before it would go to voicemail, Sam answered it.

"Hello?"

"_Dean Winchester?"_ A gruff voice asked.

"No, this is Sam. Who is this?"

"_This is Doug Peterson. I was a friend of your father's—he was a good man. I was sorry to hear he passed."_

"Thank you." Sam looked up as Dean got back into the car and shook his head at Dean's silent inquiry. Dean just shrugged and opened his pack of Peanut M&Ms, popping a couple into his mouth before tossing a bottle of juice in Sam's lap. Sam nodded his thanks and returned his attention to the man on the other end of the line. "Are you a hunter?"

"_Yeah, I am."_

"How did you get this number, Mr. Peterson?"

"_It's Doug—and I called Bobby Singer and he gave it to me. I told him I may have a hunt that I couldn't get to and he thought if I called you, you might be willing to look into it."_

"What kind of hunt?"

"_How far away are you boys from Kentucky?"_

"How about you tell us what we're getting into first and I'll let you know, Doug." Sam swiped a hand at Dean and shot him a dirty look as his brother threw one of the chocolate covered candies at him.

"_I heard you boys didn't like to play around." _Sam heard the man let out a long sigh. _"There have been a series of mysterious fires out in Oneida, Kentucky."_

"Mysterious how?"

"_I'm not too sure of that myself but there's talk that there's some demon behind them."_

"Talk from whom?"

"_Again, I'm not sure of that."_

"It doesn't seem that you're too sure about anything, Doug."

"_Look, kid, I'm in the middle of a nasty werewolf hunt so I didn't have time to find out everything. One of my buddies alerted me to it and I thought you boys could handle it. If not, then I'll find someone else who can."_

Sam sighed as another one of the candies was lobbed at his head. "Is there anything else you can tell me?" He covered up the phone with his hand and glared at Dean. "Dean, if you do not stop, I swear to God I will kill you."

Dean shrugged his shoulders in mock-innocence.

"_All I know about is the last fire. It struck a family—a single mom and her two kids. The oldest managed to get away but the other two were killed." _Sam heard a shuffling of papers before Doug spoke again. _"The kid's name is Adam Jennings—he's staying with his grandparents in Oneida."_

"Could this be attributed to a human perpetrator?"

"_It could be—that's what the fire department's thinking, anyway. But there's been signs of demonic activity."_

Sam still wasn't sure to make of it but he also knew if there was a chance—even a slim one—a demon was behind the fires, he and Dean couldn't ignore it. "Well, I'm not sure when we can get there; we're still a good ways away."

"_Hey, as long as you can get there and put a stop to it will make me happy. One less demon out in the world, the better."_

"Yeah, I agree with you there."

"_Thanks a lot, Sam."_

"Don't mention it." Sam hung up the phone at the same time he was once again pelted with the candy. "Dude!" Sam picked up the candy and chunked it at Dean's head, smiling when it bounced off with an audible thud.

"Dude, what the hell was that about?" Dean asked, rubbing at his head as Sam threw the phone into his lap.

Sam sighed. "That was one of Dad's old hunting buddies. He was seeing if we were willing to take a hunt in Kentucky."

Dean started the car and pulled out onto the highway. "Which friend?"

"Doug Peterson," Sam answered as he opened the juice and took a sip. "You heard of him?"

"The name sounds familiar. I think Dad may have mentioned him before."

"He said that Bobby gave him our number so I guess Dad had to know him."

"Why can't he handle the hunt himself?" Dean asked as he took a long swallow from his Pepsi.

"Said he was in the middle of a werewolf hunt." Sam shrugged.

"Where is this hunt at?"

"Oneida, Kentucky."

"Sounds like the middle of nowhere to me."

"Yeah, probably."

"So, why did you agree to it?"

Again Sam shrugged. "We don't have anything else right now, so I figured it couldn't hurt. Besides, Doug said there were signs of demonic activity and the more demons we can get rid of, the better as far as I'm concerned."

"What's the hunt?"

"Not really sure—Doug just said there's been some mysterious fires around town. The last one killed a single mother and one of her sons. I figure when we get there, we can find out more and go from there."

"Sounds good to me." Dean shook his head. "I'll tell you one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I hate going into one of these blind. I mean, how the hell is it that we didn't hear about this from Bobby? He's been keeping on top of all these demons, so why is it he didn't let us know about it?"

"Good question."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

By the time the brothers arrived in Oneida, Kentucky it was too late to seek out Adam Jennings. Instead, they opted to find a motel for the night and see if they could find any information over the Internet about the fires plaguing the city. Sam immediately set to work on the task as soon as he booted up his laptop, while Dean ran out to get them something to eat. Really, Sam thought Dean just wanted to get as far away from the research as he could before Sam could stick him with anything. It wasn't that Dean wasn't good at it—he just didn't like to do it and why should he since he claimed he had his trusty Geek Boy to do it for him.

Honestly, Sam was more than happy to send him out the door. The only thing Dean would do is make snarky comments and see how long it would take to actually drive Sam to the point that he'd want to jump in front of traffic—not a smattering of traffic, but five o'clock-move-your-ass-or-die traffic.

_Okay, so maybe that's a little harsh, but Dean can aggravate with the best of them. Damn professional at it if you ask me._

Fingers poised above his keyboard, Sam was about to begin his search when another thought hit him. He didn't want to question this hunt, especially at the destruction of life it already caused but he couldn't help but be a little bothered by Doug Peterson's phone call. Maybe it was his head playing with him, but he couldn't help but agree with Dean.

Bobby had been keeping close tabs on all the demonic signs ever since the gate to Hell opened, always called them at a moment's notice as soon as something was up. So why didn't he do it this time—why did some random hunter out of the blue call them and alert the brothers. It didn't sit well with the shaggy-haired hunter and he knew he wouldn't be able to proceed with the hunt unless he talked to Bobby Singer.

Scrolling through his phone book, Sam pressed the "call" button when Bobby's cell number was highlighted. The burly hunter didn't disappoint as he answered on the second ring. It was always something Sam and Dean could count on with Bobby that they couldn't count on with their dad. Bobby didn't believe in voicemail, thought it was a waste of time, actually, so whenever the boys called him, they could be sure the mechanic would answer.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Bobby—it's Sam."

"_Sam? Is something wrong?"_

Sam chuckled. It always seemed, whether he called Dean, Bobby, or anyone else for that matter, the first question out of their mouth was if something was wrong or not. "Yeah, Bobby, I'm fine—we're fine."

"_You don't still have your head buried in books, trying to find a way out of Dean's deal, do you?"_

"Actually, I don't."

"_Yeah, I'll believe that one when I see it myself."_

"Listen, Bobby—I was calling to ask you about a hunter named Doug Peterson."

"_Dougie? Yeah, I know him. A good hunter—worked with me and your daddy a couple of times. What did you need to know about him?"_

"Well, he called us about a hunt."

"_Yeah, he mentioned he'd found one in Kentucky. He said he couldn't get away to get to it."_

"So, you did give him our number?"

"_Yeah, I figured you boys could handle it. You weren't on another hunt or anything, were you?"_

"No, actually we'd just gotten off of one. Dean and I just thought it was a little weird to have some hunter we really didn't know calling to tell us about a hunt. We thought we'd hear about it from you."

"_I was gonna call you boys about it, but Dougie beat me to the punch. Is that okay? You boys don't have to handle it if you don't want. I could come do it myself if you had something else to do."_

"No, it's okay." Sam looked up as Dean came into the room, arms laden with two paper bags. He placed his hand over the receiver and mouthed "Bobby" at his brother's questioning look. "Dean and I just wanted to make sure it was legit—too many things have been going wrong for us lately."

"_I understand that. Listen, Sam…I know you haven't been having the best of luck with hunters lately and it's hard for you boys to trust them, but Dougie's one of the good guys. I wouldn't have ever given him your number if I didn't think so."_

"Yeah, I know you wouldn't, Bobby."

"_You boys call me if you run into any problems and let me know how it goes."_

"Will do. Thanks, Bobby." Sam hung up the phone and threw it on the bed beside him as Dean handed him a bottle of beer.

"What did Bobby have to say?" Dean asked around a mouthful of French fries.

Sam opened the beer and took a long swallow. "He says Doug is the real thing and he was going to call us about the hunt but Doug beat him to it."

"You still don't seem too convinced," Dean pointed out.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's just my imagination playing with me—I don't know. It's just hard to trust anything these days."

"I agree with you there." Dean took a bite of his cheeseburger and nodded towards the laptop. "Did you find out anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, I wanted to talk to Bobby first."

"Well, get some food in you and then you can work your magic." Dean studied Sam for a moment before adding, "Bobby wouldn't steer us wrong, Sammy. You know that."

"Yeah, I know he wouldn't."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Doug Peterson pushed open the door to his motel room, his muscles groaning in protest at even that simple of a task. The werewolf had been a real bitch—not that they were ever easy to deal with, mind you, but he could usually handle them with little effort. Not this one, though—it had been determined to make a full meal out of the seasoned hunter and if it wasn't for the small gun he kept tucked in his boot, he never would have made it out alive.

Maybe he'd let himself get distracted with the Winchester boys and Gordon Walker. He didn't like setting them up like he was doing, especially since John Winchester had been a real good friend of his. The elder Winchester had gotten him out of a couple of nasty scraps, and if anything, Doug owed his life and so much more to the now-deceased hunter. So going along with Walker, and setting up John Winchester's boys for a hard fall, didn't sit well with him.

He never questioned Walker when the vampire hunter called him up almost a week ago, asking him for a favor. After all, he owed Walker for saving his neck from a pack of nasty vampires, even going so far as to tell Walker he would do anything to return the favor. It was an unwritten code among hunters—you repaid your debts but you also watched out for your fellow hunters as well. What he was doing to the Winchester boys definitely went against the latter of the code and he knew John Winchester would throttle him if he was still alive.

_Hell, he still might when I get to the other side knowing that stubborn man._

Pulling out a beer from the small ice chest, he popped the top and took a long drink. He'd heard talk among the hunter community that Walker had become more unbalanced recently, swearing to anyone and everyone who would listen that Sam Winchester would bring about the destruction of the human race. It was laughable, really, to imagine how a bright kid like that could become something so vile and evil. Doug didn't believe the talk, though he knew there were a few hunters who were siding with Walker and his crazy ramblings.

But maybe he was, albeit unintentionally. He'd agreed to help Walker out, even when the vampire hunter told him what he'd planned. Well, there wasn't anything he could do about it now. Maybe Gordon wouldn't go through with it; maybe he'd have a change of heart…

Doug didn't believe that for a second so the best he could do right now was watch from a distance, keep an eye on the boys. If things went too far, he could step in and stop Walker from making a stupid mistake. It would be better if he could just call Sam and Dean and tell them it was a setup, but he knew where that would land him—dead. Gordon Walker was ruthless, cunning, and maniacal—he would know who tipped off the brothers and there wouldn't be anywhere Doug could hide.

It still didn't mean he had to like it.

His ringing cell phone ripped him away from his thoughts. "Peterson?"

"_Is it done?"_ Gordon's silky voice asked.

"Yeah, it's done. I still don't like it though."

"_Your problem, not mine. I'll call you if I need anything else."_

"Screw that, Walker. I'm done—I did my part."

"_I see gratitude doesn't run too deep for you, does it?"_

"You can hold that over my head for as long as you want, Walker. It still isn't going to change my mind."

"_That really is a shame, Peterson." _Gordon hung up before Doug could say anything else.

_Damn arrogant ass…_

Draining the rest of his beer, Doug made up his mind. He wasn't about to let those boys go in without a little back-up.


	3. Chapter 3

**As you can see, I am still very much alive! I hope you didn't think I was abandoning this story...it's just that my real life has gotten in the way and add to that I just graduated from college last week. I'm not sure when the next update will be and I'm not about to leave you guys with an empty promise.**

**Mucho, mucho thanks to my awesome, wonderful beta Mizpah! I love you, Mum!**

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"I am so not looking forward to this," Dean commented as he brought the Impala to a stop in front of a small-framed brick home nestled in between two others that looked nearly identical. In fact, the entire street looked like that, almost as if the developers were afraid to try something a little different.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked from the passenger seat.

"Talking to kids about death—especially when it concerns their family? It's not anything a kid should have to deal with."

"You dealt with it, Dean."

"That was different." Dean pushed out of the car not giving Sam the chance to say anything. No matter what his brother threw in his face, it wasn't the same thing. He hadn't lost his entire family at once, not like Adam Jennings had. Sure he'd lost loved ones along the way, but it was something that came with the job—he could deal it. Maybe not in the most conventional of ways, but he could do it.

Straightening his tie, he led the way up the small walkway, preparing to give yet another grieving family another lie in order to find answers. He sometimes wondered how he could do it, but then he remembered it was for them. It was so he could find the answers that would give them closure. He needed no other reason.

"I get what you mean, though," Sam was saying as he rang the doorbell. "It can't be easy for the kid."

Dean was about to answer when the door opened, revealing an older gentleman with short, graying hair and gray eyes.

"Can I help you?" The man asked, regarding the brothers warily.

"Are you Mr. Jennings?"

The man nodded.

"Sir, I'm Detective Jones and this is my partner Detective Owens—we're with the State Police," Dean said, holding up a badge.

"Please, we've been through enough around here. Must we answer any more questions?"

"We understand that, sir. The local police called us—asked us to lend our assistance to the case."

"We know that this has been an incredibly hard time for you, but I promise you we won't take too much of your time," Sam said quickly, stepping into the conversation.

The man studied them for a long moment before finally allowing them to come into the home. He led them past the living room into the dining room where a woman with shoulder-length, graying red hair was sitting, sipping from a coffee mug.

"Alice, these are detectives from the State Police," the man said, introducing them. "They've come to talk about Helen and Micah."

Alice sniffled. "Haven't we been through enough of this, Jonah?"

"We're very sorry about your loss, ma'am," Sam said softly. "We don't mean to cause you any more grief, but we'd really like to figure out what happened and give you some answers."

"The local police said it was arson," she said bitterly.

"Yes ma'am, that's right," Dean said, taking a seat in front of her. "We want to find who's responsible for this. Now, is there anyone who may have had something against your daughter?"

Alice shook her head. "No, Helen was the sweetest girl. She was willing to do anything for anyone, no matter what."

"Our daughter didn't have a single enemy," Jonah agreed. "She always had a smile for everyone."

"Helen was a single mother, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Would her ex-husband do something like this?"

"Phillip was a lot of things, but a killer wasn't one of them," Alice said.

"My dad would never hurt my mom or Micah," said a soft voice from behind the brothers. They turned around to see a teenaged boy standing in the doorway, watching them scornfully.

"Adam, I thought you were still sleeping," Jonah said, walking over to his grandson and pulling the teen close to him.

"You were there when it happened, weren't you?" Dean asked.

Adam nodded. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Is this really necessary?" Alice asked. "Adam's been through enough. He doesn't need to relive this."

"I understand that, ma'am, but he may be able to help us out," Dean argued.

"He watched his mother and brother die! What could he possible say to help you out?" Alice asked, anger lacing her voice.

"Alice, if it can help and Adam feels up to it, maybe he can answer a few questions," Jonah said softly. "You want to know what happened to Helen and Micah, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said tearfully.

Jonah turned to look at his grandson. "What do you say, Adam? Do you feel like talking to the police?"

Adam shrugged. "If it will help, I guess."

"Is there somewhere we can speak in private?" Sam asked.

"You can go in the living room," Jonah answered before addressing Adam once again. "If you need anything at all, Grandma and I will be in here, okay?"

Adam nodded and silently went into the living room, Sam and Dean following behind. As Dean watched the boy shuffle stiffly ahead, he couldn't help but feel the rage build up once again. Who got to decide that Adam had to lose his entire family? Who was pulling the strings, playing a cruel joke on a fifteen-year-old kid?

"What did you need to know?" Adam asked as he collapsed onto a reclining chair.

Sam and Dean sat down on the long, leather sofa, unconsciously mirroring each other's posture—elbows on knees, upper bodies inclined slightly forward. "Can you tell us what happened, Adam?" Dean asked.

Adam kept his head down as he fumbled with a thread sticking out from the chair. "I had a fight with my mom over something totally lame. I wanted to get away from her so I went to check the mail. Then my house blew up with my mom and little brother inside."

"Adam, did you see anyone at your house?" Sam asked gently.

The teen shook his head. "No," he said softly. He looked up at the brothers with tears in his eyes. "Why did I have to fight with my mom? I complained about watching my little brother and now I can never watch him again."

Dean swallowed thickly as he felt the anger threatening to spill over. He could see the guilt written all over the kid and it was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Dean had felt it when he'd watched Sam die back in Cold Oak—he'd felt there was something more that he should have done. He never should have let Sam go into that diner alone and set off the chain of events that had led to his little brother's death and the deal with the crossroads demon.

But Dean got something that Adam would never get—a second chance at life with Sam. Sure, he only had a year to do it, but that year was so much more than what anyone else could get.

"Adam, I want you to listen to me, okay?"

Adam nodded as he looked up at Dean.

"This is not your fault, you hear me? You cannot go around and blame yourself for something that you had no control over. If you were in that house, you would be gone too and imagine what that would be like for your grandparents." Dean glanced up as Alice and Jonah stopped in the doorway. "I know none of this makes sense right now and it's going to take a good long while for you to stop blaming yourself, but you've got to, okay? If not for yourself, then do it for your mom and Micah. They wouldn't want you to do this to yourself, would they?"

"No."

"Now, my partner and I are gonna get to the bottom of this, okay?"

"You promise?"

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him, almost begging him not to give the kid an empty promise. But this was one promise Dean intended to keep. "I promise you."

Adam nodded. "Good."

Dean stood up and gave Adam a card with his cell phone number on it. "If you need to talk about anything, you give me a call, all right? Any time of the day."

"Thanks, Detective."

"Call me Dean."

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean was about to leave the teen to his thoughts when a picture on the fireplace mantle caught his eyes. Slowly walking towards it, he noticed it was of Adam and a younger boy he assumed to be Micah. "Is this your little brother?"

"Yeah, that's Micah," Adam answered with a fond smile.

Dean felt as if someone stabbed him in the gut as he took in the two smiling boys. At a quick glance, he could have sworn he was looking at Sam's twin—the boy look just liked his younger brother. "You two look happy together."

"We were. I mean, he could be a total dork at times but I loved him."

Dean smiled as he shot a glance at Sam. "Yeah, I know the feeling." Turning his attention to Adam, he said, "Remember what I said about calling me, okay?"

"Okay."

The Winchester brothers walked out of the living room, Alice and Jonah following closely behind. Before they could walk out, Alice reached out a hand and grabbed Dean's arm. "Thank you."

Dean frowned. "For what?"

"For what you said to my grandson. He's been having a really hard time and I think he needed to hear that from someone other than us."

Dean smiled thinly. "You're welcome."

The brothers walked out of the house and to the Impala without a word. As soon as they were seated inside, Sam turned to face his sibling. "What if we can't do it, Dean?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What if we can't do what?"

"Give that family the answers they need."

Dean shook his head as he started up the Chevy. "There's no question about it, Sam. We're going to find out what's been happening around here before any other family has to go through what they have."

Robbie Mallette could hardly contain his elation. _They were here! The Winchester brothers are actually here!_

He had to be honest with himself— when he first agreed to go along with Gordon's plan, he didn't think the brothers would fall for it. They were smarter than that—he knew from the time he spent with them and Gordon even told him so. But Gordon assured him their plan would be foolproof, and it looked like the vampire hunter was right. Sam and Dean were within their grasp now—all they had to do was strike.

Robbie had to learn to pace himself though. He knew he couldn't do anything to ruin what they'd worked so hard to achieve. He couldn't let Gordon down like that, namely because he knew the man could kill him. Gordon was well trained and while he was teaching Robbie the ropes, it still wasn't enough to defend himself against the crazed man.

"I thought you were going to sleep all morning," Robbie commented as Gordon walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee pot.

"Is it such a bad thing to sleep in every once in a while?" Gordon asked.

Robbie frowned. "No. I just found it unusual, is all."

Gordon didn't say anything as he poured himself some coffee and sat down at the table across from Robbie. Robbie studied his mentor and couldn't help but notice the worry lines etching the man's face. Gordon looked perturbed about something—it could have something to do with the phone call he got last night, but Robbie couldn't be sure.

"What's wrong?" Robbie asked tentatively.

"Nothin'." He took a swig of his coffee. "At least nothing I can't handle."

"Is it about our plan?"

"I don't know…maybe." He fixed Robbie with a look when he noticed the kid's shoulders sag. "Don't worry—like I said, I'll take care of it."

Robbie nodded. "Okay." Then he brightened up. "The brothers are here."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw their car at the local motel."

"You didn't try anything, did you?"

"No. You know I wouldn't do something like that."

Gordon nodded. "Just make sure you don't. We can't afford for you to do something stupid just because you're excited. You do that and you'll end up getting the both of us killed."

"You have my word."

"Good." Draining the last dregs of his coffee, he got up from the table and washed his cup out in the sink. Before walking out of the room, he turned to look at Robbie again. "I mean it, Robbie. I won't let you screw this up."

Robbie nodded, watching as the hunter walked away. He really didn't want to disappoint Gordon, but he also didn't want to be treated like a child either. Gordon had been angry with him when he'd found out one of the Jennings' boys was still alive. He'd told Robbie if he was going to take on a job, then he needed to make sure the job was finished. Robbie had assured him Adam never saw him and was surprised when Gordon had let it go so easily.

Robbie wouldn't do anything else to mess this up, but Gordon never said anything about him not at least keeping an eye on the brothers.

"Have you found anything?"

Sam looked up at the sound of Dean's voice and for a fleeting moment thought about clipping him on the side of the head. It wasn't that he was frustrated at his older brother—well, not entirely anyway. It was just that research took so long and it didn't help that they'd been at it for the past three hours or so. Mostly Sam, since Dean couldn't sit still long enough to achieve anything constructive.

Instead, Sam let out a weary sigh and rotated his neck until he heard several satisfying pops. "You asked me that about ten minutes ago, Dean. Which, when I think about it is an improvement from you asking me every five minutes."

Dean shrugged as he took a seat beside Sam. "I decided to shake things up for you a bit. I know how you like to have your life spiced up whenever you can," he offered with a smile.

Sam cocked his head to look at Dean. "That's you, Dean. Not me. I'm perfectly content with the way I go through life."

Dean's smile grew wider. "Yeah, that's true. Speaking of some spice, I really could go for some chow right now."

Sam's stomach growled at the mention of food. It _had _been a while since they'd grabbed something for lunch and even that was just a cheeseburger. "Yeah, I could go for something, too." He began to gather up his papers, placing them in a neat pile. "Then I can tell you what I found out."

"So, you do have something?" Dean swatted Sam on the arm. "Dude, you were totally holding out on me."

"No, I was being selective in what I shared."

"You didn't share anything."

"Thus me being selective."

Dean rolled his eyes as he pushed open the doors to the library. "Smartass."

Sam chuckled as he followed his brother down the sidewalk. Dusk was beginning to settle in the small town, the sky painted in pink and amber hues as the sun dipped below the horizon. A few of the citizens were out at this time of night, but for the most part Oneida was pretty quiet. _Such is the charm of a small town life…_

About a block from the library, they found a small diner, the neon sign advertising that breakfast was served all day long. As the brothers pushed through the single glass plated door, a tiny bell announced their arrival. A young waitress with curly auburn hair looked up from the counter.

"Ya'll just take any seat you want," she said in a heavy southern drawl as she smiled at them.

Sam returned the smile and he noticed Dean's eyes linger on her as he led them to a booth in the very back of the eatery.

"And I thought Oneida didn't have any sights to take in," Dean commented, smirking at Sam as he slid onto a bench.

"Again with that downstairs brain of yours. Do you ever give it any rest?"

"Now where would the fun in life be if I did that, Sammy?"

Sam just shook his head in wonder, saved from answering his brother as the waitress came to their table, setting two glasses of water in front of them.

"Do ya'll know what ya'll want?"

Dean nodded. "I'll take your special with a black coffee."

"Okay." She jotted the order down on her pad and glanced at Sam. "And you, sweetie?"

"Short stack with an orange juice," he answered, grinning politely.

The girl smiled at them. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

Sam snorted as he noticed Dean watching her leave, his eyes never straying from her backside. Clearing his throat a little too loudly, Sam pulled out the papers he'd gotten from the library and passed them over to Dean.

"What's this?" Dean asked, shooting a mild look of annoyance at his sibling.

"Those would be all the reports of fires in the area within the last week alone."

Dean flipped through the pages, his brows rising in surprise. "There has to be at least fifteen reports here."

"Yeah, but it—" Sam stopped as the waitress delivered their drinks and picked it right back up as soon as she was out of earshot. "It never involved any deaths until the Jennings family."

Dean frowned as he gulped down some coffee. "That doesn't make sense if it's a demon involved. They usually like death with their destruction."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe this one is different." He pulled out more notes from his bag. "I found mention of one demon that could possible fit the M.O. Its name is Cheitan—a demon of smoke, sort of low-level so something like this would be right up its alley."

"But why would it decide to kill now if it's only been intent on destruction so far?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Who knows? I mean, who knows why half these demons do anything they do?"

Dean sighed. "Okay, so we find this bastard and we exorcise it, right?"

"That's the usual plan we go in with."

"Hasn't failed us so far," Dean pointed out.

Sam cringed. "And you probably just jinxed it for us."

Dean smiled but didn't say anything as the cute waitress came back with their orders. The brothers ate in companionable silence, both letting any lingering thoughts about the case escape with the home-cooked meal in front of them.

"So, do you have any idea where we might find this demon?" Dean asked as he polished off his last piece of bacon, dipping it into leftover yolk of his eggs.

Sam shook his head, wondering again about his brother's habit of unhealthy eating. "All the reports say there were no witnesses to the fires and we know that Adam didn't see anything."

"So, it's basically playing hide-and-seek in a town full of people?"

"Yep."

"What else is new?" Dean muttered. Draining the last dregs of his coffee, he pulled out a few bills from his pocket and placed them on the table for the waitress as a tip. Sam gathered up all of his materials and followed his brother to the register where Dean paid for their meal.

"Ya'll be sure to come back and see us," the waitress said with a dazzling smile.

Dean offered a dazzling smile of his own as he plucked a toothpick from the dispenser in front of the register. "We wouldn't dream of going anywhere else."

"God, you sure know how to lay it on thick, Casanova," Sam teased as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"You're just jealous that you don't have my style, Sammy."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's—" Sam drew in a startled breath as he glanced across the street, a vaguely familiar figure catching his eye. The guy leered at him, a cruel smile forming on his face.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Dean asked, stopping to glance back at Sam.

_It can't be…there's no way possible…_ Sam's gaze darted to Dean before quickly returning to the opposite side of the street, but the figure was gone.

"Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard as he turned wide eyes to his brother once again. "Dean, I could have sworn I just saw Robbie Mallette watching us."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews, guys! They are much appreciated! Again, I'm not going to promise when the next update will be but I'll get it as soon as I can!**

**Thanks to Mizpah for the awesome beta and the kick in the pants...it's appreciated, Mum!**

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"Sammy, are you sure that you saw Robbie Mallette?" Dean asked, taking in the slightly panicked look on his brother's face.

Sam nodded. "Dean, do you honestly think I would make up something about him?"

"No…" Dean looked across the street to where Sam kept darting furtive glances but didn't see the psycho motel clerk from Travers, Arkansas anywhere. He wanted to believe Sam but how was he supposed to do that when there was no one there?

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You don't believe me," he stated in an accusatory tone.

"It's not that I don't believe you…"

"Then what is it?"

Dean gave a helpless shrug. "It's just that we're several states away from Arkansas—"

"Don't you think I know that, Dean?" Sam demanded.

Dean didn't miss the anger in the young hunter's voice and he couldn't really blame Sam, especially after what Robbie had done to him. But he also wouldn't be doing Sam any favors by playing into his fears.

"Yes, I know you know that, Sammy, but we put that bastard away. He's in a heavily secured prison with no hopes of getting out for years," Dean tried to explain.

"Dean, I know what I saw."

"Are you sure about that?"

Sam took a threatening step towards Dean. "What the hell are you trying to say, Dean?"

Dean stepped back and held up a conciliatory hand. "Dude, calm down for a minute and think about it logically. You've been under an incredible amount of stress lately and maybe that's making you see things that aren't really there."

"But why would I be thinking about Robbie?"

"I don't know, dude. I mean, he really did a number on your head. It wasn't all that long ago so maybe the stress is bringing it back to the surface. You never really got to take some time to deal with it with all that crap with the Yellow-Eyed Demon and—"

"—And with me dying," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, wishing Sam didn't bring that sore subject up again. "Listen, Sammy…I'm telling you that there's no way in hell that Robbie's in town, okay?"

Sam stared at Dean for a few moments before nodding his head slowly. "Yeah…okay."

Dean didn't entirely believe Sam was all right with that, but he would let it go for now. He knew there was nothing he could really say to convince his young brother; Sam was going to go about it on his own the best way he knew how—research. Dean was perfectly content to let him do that if it would placate Sam's nerves.

"Now, what do you say we head back to the motel and get some rest? We'll head out to the Jennings' home tomorrow and take a look around, see if there's anything to be found."

"Sounds good, Dean."

As Sam began to walk towards the Impala, Dean couldn't help but wish Robbie was there so he could kick the little freak's ass for causing Sam to worry like this.

_He saw me! I can't believe I let Sam see me! Gordon is going to be so pissed if he finds out!_

Robbie couldn't stop the anxiousness coursing through his body as he quietly unlocked the door to the home he shared with Gordon. Sam was never supposed to see him—neither of them was. Robbie never meant for that to happen especially since he'd been so good all evening. He'd watched as they'd entered the library and discreetly followed them when they headed to the diner. He'd quickly ducked into the coffee shop across the street so he could keep an eye out on them, but his excitement got the better of him.

Or maybe it was the three coffees he'd consumed while watching them chat and eat.

Either way, it didn't bode well for Robbie. The main component to their plan was to catch the Winchesters unawares. Being spotted by them was nowhere in the plan and now it could screw everything up royally. Even if Sam thought he was just seeing things, it would cause the brothers to be on guard and keep a watchful eye out for him.

"Where were you?"

Robbie jumped in fright as the living room light popped on, revealing Gordon sitting in the chair, idly playing with one of his blades.

"Gordon!" The young man swallowed nervously. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going out."

"You never answered my question, Robbie," Gordon said quietly as he turned dark eyes on Robbie.

"I was just…out…doing…something."

"Doing what?"

"What? Are you my keeper or something?" Robbie asked as he walked into the kitchen. He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Popping the top, Robbie tilted his head back and let the cool liquid soothe his parched throat.

"You went into town to see if you could see the brothers, didn't you?" Gordon was standing in the doorway, watching him as he still played with his knife.

Robbie shrugged nonchalantly. "And if I was?"

Without warning, Gordon threw the knife, the blade embedding itself into the wall mere inches from Robbie's head.

"What the hell, Gordon?"

"What the hell were you thinking, Robbie?" Gordon yelled furiously.

"I didn't see the harm in it!"

"You didn't see the harm in it? You could screw up everything by that stunt you pulled!" Gordon took a calming breath, but his eyes were deadly as he glared at the small-framed man. "Did they see you?"

Robbie fidgeted, averting his eyes away from Gordon.

"Robbie…" Gordon said through clenched teeth.

"I think I was spotted by Sam," Robbie said in a rush.

"WHAT?" In two long strides, Gordon was standing in front of Robbie, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

Robbie backed up until he was flush against the wall and held up a hand. "Now, I—I don't know that for sure, Gordon. I said I _think _he spotted me."

"It doesn't matter if you think he spotted you. If they even think they caught a tiny glimpse of you, they'll be after your ass so fast your mama will know before you do." He poked Robbie in the chest with his finger. "I did not just waste the last few months of my goddamned freedom to let everything go to hell, do you understand me?"

"Gordon, I didn't mean to—"

Gordon poked him again, causing Robbie to wince in pain and drop his beer. The bottle shattered and the amber brew splashed everywhere.

"I'm not going to stand around and let you constantly screw up. If you make one more rookie move like that, I swear to all things holy, I will kill you myself. I highly doubt anyone would notice you're gone and I would probably be doing the world a favor. Understood?"

Robbie nodded.

"I didn't hear you, Robbie."

"Y-yeah…I understand, Gordon."

Gordon's face broke into a satisfied smile. "Good. I'm glad to see we're on the same page."

Gordon reached beside Robbie's head and for a second, the young ex-clerk was afraid the vampire hunter was going to do something to him. Instead, he pulled the knife out of the wall and walked out of the kitchen.

"Make sure you lock up, Robbie," he said with a chuckle.

Robbie let out a deep, shuddering sigh as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He had no doubt in his mind that Gordon meant everything he said. Gordon would have no qualms about killing Robbie as soon as he turned his back if the situation warranted it. Even when they'd met those months ago, Gordon had told Robbie he wouldn't put himself at risk if Robbie screwed everything up.

_I definitely have to watch my step now. There's no way in hell Gordon's going to let me slip up again, no matter how close I may think we are._

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Dean said as soon as the brothers entered their motel room. He eyed Sam as his brother headed right for his laptop. "Try not to get carpel tunnel while I'm in there."

Sam didn't say anything as he booted up his computer. He didn't care what Dean said—Sam knew what he saw and he was going to prove it. There was just no way in hell he would begin to think about Robbie Mallette out of the blue. In fact, Sam had done everything in his power to push that awful memory away and had succeeded.

Until tonight.

Until Sam saw his tormentor not twenty feet away from him.

The thoughts of Travers came rushing back in techno-color clarity. _Trapped in the morgue cabinet. Robbie taunting Sam with hurting Dean. Dean sitting across from him, tied up. Robbie holding a gun to Sam's head and firing repeatedly. Dean trying to answer questions he didn't have the answers to in a desperate attempt to save Sam._

Giving himself a mental shake, Sam signed onto the Internet as he once again pushed the thoughts away. He wasn't about to sit here and let Robbie get to him again. He wasn't about to let himself be victimized again by that bastard.

Pulling up the site for the _Arkansas Times_, Sam used a search query and typed in Robbie's name, seeing if he could pull up anything about the clerk's arrest and trial. He frowned when the results popped up, showing only the few articles he'd found earlier about Robbie's brother.

"Maybe I typed something wrong…"

Sam retyped his query, but the results still came back the same. There were no stories about Robbie being arrested when it should have been big news, considering the body Dean found at the deranged young man's home. Finding the Travers Police Department's phone number on Google, Sam picked up his phone and dialed.

"_Travers Police Department—may I help you?" _A cheery female voice asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry to call so late, but I was wondering if you could maybe help me with something," Sam said.

"_I can sure try. What is it you need, sir?"_

"I'm a private investigator and I'm just double-checking all of my files, closing up some cases. I was asked to look into the disappearance of Matthew Grant a few months ago."

"_Oh, yes. I remember that case. His body was found in some psycho's home, right?"_

"Yes, it was, and that's actually what I'm trying to find. I don't see any mention of the killer's arrest or anything even though it was provided to the police."

"_I'm afraid the police never found the man responsible for his murder."_

"What are you talking about?"

"_The information that was provided to the police—it didn't pan out. When we got to the Eclipse Hotel, there was no one to be found."_

"But that's impossible," Sam argued, feeling as if someone just sucker-punched him. They'd left Robbie there for the police. They'd left all the evidence they would need to put that freak behind bars for the rest of his life.

"_I really don't know what to tell you, sir."_

"Okay…thanks."

"_What did you say your name was, sir?"_

Sam hung up without answering and just stared at his phone. There was just no way this was happening, especially not now when they had so much else to worry about. Robbie was supposed to be tucked away in a maximum security prison, not roaming the streets of Oneida, Kentucky.

It just wasn't possible.

Sam barely even heard the door to the bathroom open and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Dean's voice.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost," he said with a chuckle. Then he turned sober. "You didn't see a ghost, did you?"

Sam shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

Sam swallowed hard and glanced up at his brother, seeing the concern on the older man's face.

"He's still out there, Dean."

"Who?"

"Robbie."

"What are you talking about?"

"The police never caught him."

Dean frowned. "Of course, they caught him. We left him right where they could find him."

Sam shook his head. "I just called the Travers Police Department. They told me when they got to the Eclipse, Robbie wasn't there. No one was there. Don't you know what this means, Dean?"

Dean didn't respond.

"It means that I really did see Robbie Mallette tonight. And if he's out there, he's not going to stop until we're dead this time."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys!**

**Thanks so much for all the awesome reviews and your wonderful patience with me. I couldn't ask for better readers and I am so thankful for all of you! Life has been a little crazy as of late, so that's the reason for the delay in update—I turned another year older, found a new job, and I'm getting ready for a vacation next week.**

**Again, I'm not going to promise when the next update will be but I will get another chapter out as soon as I can. Oh, and for those of you also reading Livin' On The Edge—we will get an update out as soon as we can, but my partner in crime broke her hand, so it's been a little rough, not to mention we both have commitments to the Supernatural Virtual Season we have to uphold. But we have not forgotten about it! We talk about it all the time!**

**Big thanks to my awesome beta, Mizpah! I love you so much, Mum, and thanks so much for your continued support. It means the world to me!**

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Sleep had come hard for Sam Winchester.

He'd spent the majority of the night, tossing and turning, trying to keep thoughts of Robbie Mallette out of his head. Every single time Sam dared to shut his eyes, the psycho's face would swim into view and jar him awake. By the time morning came, he'd memorized every single crack on the tiled ceiling.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, he saw it was a few minutes after five o'clock. Figuring it was too late to get any real sleep he crawled out of bed as silently as he could and headed for the shower. There was no reason for him to wake up Dean, even though Sam knew Dean would be up shortly. His brother seemed to have this uncanny ability to know when Sam was no longer sleeping.

It was kind of weird, really. It was almost as if Dean couldn't sleep if Sam wasn't in the same room with him. Sam had noticed it every single time he got up early—it was almost like clockwork. It made Sam wonder how Dean had ever gotten _any _sleep while he'd been away at Stanford.

But then again, maybe he didn't want to know.

Jumping into the shower, Sam let the hot water ease his troubles away and provide the jolt of energy he desperately needed. He could feel the exhaustion coming off him in waves and knew Dean would be able to sense it as soon as he stepped back into the room. No matter how much Sam tried to mask it, Dean could always read through it.

Well, he'd deal with it, just like he always did. _I'll make some excuse, Dean won't believe it, we'll bicker and then get over it, just like we always do,_ he mused to himself.

Quickly toweling dry and slipping on a pair of boxers, Sam pushed open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam following him as he entered the room.

And there was Dean.

Awake.

Looking at him expectantly.

Just like clockwork.

"Do you always have to rise before the chickens or what?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged as he walked over to his duffel and pulled out a pair of jeans. "I wanted to get in the shower before you hogged all of the hot water."

"And apparently you think I was born yesterday," Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Let me save you some trouble—I didn't get any sleep last night. Satisfied?" Sam asked as he pulled a light blue tee over his head.

Dean ignored Sam's sarcastic tone. "You were thinking about him all night, weren't you?"

"Wow, give the man a prize."

"Don't be a smartass with me, Sam. I'm not in the mood for it this early in the day."

"And I'm not in the mood for the twenty questions."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Dean rose from the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. "I'm hitting the shower. I figure when I get out, we can head over to the Jennings' home and take a look around."

"Yeah," Sam said with very little enthusiasm.

Dean only let out a sigh and slammed the door shut behind him. Sam could see he'd pissed off his brother, and while Dean may not get over it anytime soon, Sam knew his brother understood. It was one of the consequences of always being together—they got in their moods and it was best to just let each other have their space.

Sam figured he could at least make it a little better by treating Dean to a hearty breakfast before they went to the Jennings' home.

Pulling up to what was left of the Jennings' home, Dean parked the Impala and shut off the engine. Glancing over at Sam, he saw his sibling was staring out his window, his mind apparently thousands of miles away.

Dean had learned long ago to overlook Sam's moods. When Sam became broody, it was best to give him his distance, so when the younger man had snapped at him this morning, Dean had brushed it off like it was nothing. There was really no point in dwelling on it, because it wouldn't benefit either of them. And the last thing Dean wanted to do with his final year was keep arguing with Sam.

They seemed to do enough of that as it was.

Dean knew his brother was freaked. Hell, he couldn't blame the kid after they'd pretty much gotten the confirmation Robbie was still out in the world, able to wreak havoc on other innocents. If Dean wanted to be completely honest with himself, he'd not gotten much sleep himself.

He'd spent most of the night wondering why the hell he didn't kill Robbie Mallette when he'd had the chance back in Travers. Why did he just let him sit there? He should have known it was no guarantee Robbie would stay put. He should have listened to that voice in his head. Lord knew, Dean had the opportunity to kill the bastard after Sam left them alone, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He couldn't even entertain the idea.

Dean knew he'd never have been able to keep it secret from Sam. But if he had known then what would happen now, what seeing Robbie again would do to Sam, then he would have done it. Anything to give Sam peace of mind. The kid had enough to freak out about without Robbie being added to the mix.

"Are we gonna get out or are we gonna sit in the car all day?" Sam asked, breaking through Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah…I was just thinking," Dean mumbled as he pushed out of the car.

"What were you thinking about?" Sam asked as he followed Dean down the gravel driveway.

"I was just thinking, Sam."

"About what?"

Dean looked at his brother in exasperation. "Can't a guy just think?"

"Sure," Sam admitted. "But you're not one to usually do it."

"Fine, what were you thinking about, Sammy?"

"What?"

"Don't think I didn't notice you in the car the entire way up here. You were completely zoned out," Dean said. When Sam didn't say anything, Dean nodded his head. "That's what I thought."

Coming to the shell of the burnt home, the brothers slowly walked through it, keeping their eyes peeled for any demonic evidence. If a demon was behind this, they were going to find it, come hell or high water. Dean was ready to inflict a little pain, courtesy of a bucket of holy water and the Rituale Romanum.

The sooner he got that done, the sooner he could go after Robbie.

"Are you finding anything?" Sam asked.

"No, there's nothing here," Dean admitted as he turned in a slow circle. "No sulfur, nothing."

"Yeah, me either. The only thing I'm finding is traces of some substance on the beams."

"Demonic traces of something?"

Sam shook his head. "Definitely not. If I didn't know any better, Dean, I would say this was a clear cut case of arson."

Dean frowned. "But that doesn't make any sense."

Sam chuckled. "Since when does anything we do ever make any sense?"

"No, that's not it."

"What is it, then?"

"If this was arson, then why target the this family? From everything we've gathered, they were good people. Everyone seemed to love them, so who in the hell did they piss off to deserve this," Dean explained with a wave of his hand towards the burnt ruins.

"Dean, you and I both know people don't necessarily have to have an excuse for half the things they do. It's the human mind—there's no set pattern to the way they think. Not like it is with demons and the other things we go after. Even you've admitted how crazy people are. It was probably just someone working out his jollies or something."

Yeah, I know…it's just weird, you know? Who in the world could have so much hate in their blood to destroy an entire family?"

"Do you want me to list all the names for you?" Sam asked sardonically.

"Sam…"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I can name one person who's on the top of my list," he muttered, kicking the ground.

"Sam, why would he—" Dean stopped abruptly.

"Dean, what is it?"

"That son of a bitch…" Dean swore as he stalked back towards the Impala.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam jogged to keep up with Dean. When the older Winchester still didn't stop, Sam reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. "Dude, what the hell?"

Dean shrugged off Sam's grip. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"See what?" Sam sighed. "Dean, tell me what the hell is going on!"

"That picture at Adam's grandparents' house, Sam. The picture that was sitting on the fireplace mantel," Dean tried to explain.

"Dean, I didn't look at any of the pictures, so you're gonna have to fill in some blanks for me."

Dean looked away from his little brother's inquisitive stare, knowing that he was going to cave if he even held it for another second. He didn't want to freak Sam out any more than the kid was already, but he knew he couldn't keep it from his sibling, either. Not if he wanted Sam to stay safe and keep on his toes.

"Back at that house, I saw a picture of Adam and his little brother," Dean began slowly.

"Yeah? So?"

Dean shook his head as he looked up at Sam. "Looking at that picture of Micah—Sam, I swear to God, I was looking at you."

Sam frowned. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"Micah looked just like you did when you were a kid, Sammy."

"Okay, but I still don't see where you're going with this, Dean."

Dean felt like he was talking to a brick wall, which was weird because the roles were usually reversed, with Sam telling him a bunch of garble he didn't understand. "You said Robbie could be behind this, right?"

"Yeah, Dean, but I wasn't being serious about it," Sam admitted.

Dean only arched a brow at his brother.

"Okay, so I was being serious. But why would he target this family? And how the hell did it get blamed on a demon?"

_Oh, God, I'm about to shake him if he doesn't get it through that thick head of his. _"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes, please."

"Sam, the kid in the picture, the one that was killed…he looked like you!"

Sam stared at Dean as his words slowly sunk in. "No friggin' way…"

"Thank God, you finally got it!"

"You're saying the Jennings family was targeted just because one of the kids happened to look like me?" Sam asked in disbelief.

Dean shrugged. "It makes me sick to even think of a scenario that like that, but yeah. We know how twisted that freak is."

Sam bit his lip as he slowly shook his head. "So, it's my fault they died…"

Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "No, don't you dare go there, Sammy."

"Why not, Dean? We know how obsessed Robbie was with us. We let him live—we left him tied up in that hotel and because of that, an innocent family is dead."

"Sam, we had no idea he would get free. We had no idea he would inflict his sick fantasies on an innocent family just to lure us in. We can't even begin to get in that freak's head and I'm not going to stand around and allow you to do this to yourself, do you hear me?"

"Dean, you tell me that kid looks like me and I'm supposed to believe it was just a random act." Sam pointed a finger at the charred ruins. "Robbie targeted that family because of me."

"Sam, stop it!" Dean yelled, making Sam flinch and take a step backwards. _Good, let him be afraid of me. I'm not going to let him beat himself up over this._ "If, you don't stop doing this to yourself, I swear to God, I'll beat the shit out of you myself."

"Dean…"

"No!"

Dean turned away from Sam and stormed towards the Impala. Getting in, he slammed the door harder than he meant to and started the engine, staring out the windshield. He sat that way for a few minutes until Sam finally opened the door and joined him.

Without a word, Dean tore off down the street, back towards town.

"God, Gordon Walker sure knows how to pick a town," Doug Peterson muttered as he pulled onto the main strip of downtown Oneida, Kentucky. It wasn't really surprising to the middle-aged hunter, really. Hunters usually gravitated towards the less populous of places—the fewer nosy people, the better.

But still…this place didn't have much to offer. A diner here, a couple of seedy bars there along with a small grocery store and library—every town had to have a library within arms' reach—the town wasn't much to sniff at. But then again, the veteran hunter had been in worse places in his life. Far worse.

Slowing to a crawl, Peterson eased his aging Ford truck down the road, eyes open for any sign of the Winchesters' Impala. It wasn't that hard of a car to find and it was a real shame the boys hadn't learned to find one that blended in a little better. But everyone, even hunters, knew they would never part with that car, especially the eldest boy. And while the growl of the classic's V8 engine was threatening, it made them easy targets for their enemies.

Peterson wanted to get to the Winchester boys before Gordon had the chance to get to them first. He'd been thinking about it the entire ride to Kentucky—he knew he was making the right decision in helping the brothers out. He didn't want to see the crazed vampire hunter get his hands on them and if he managed to do it, Peterson wanted the boys to have fair warning so they stood a chance against Gordon.

He knew they'd faced the man before. Hell, the younger one managed to get Gordon tossed into the can, which didn't sit well among some of the hunting community. You never turned on your own, no matter what, but from what Peterson gathered, the Winchesters had no choice. They'd had to protect themselves from the delusional man and honestly, if Peterson had been in their position, he would have killed Gordon Walker outright.

End of sentence.

Peterson's eyes alighted on one of the two bars, and he blew out a relieved sigh when he saw the black Chevy Impala glinting in the moonlight. Smiling to himself, he pulled up beside it and stepped out as music blasted from the establishment. He wasn't able to quite make out the song until he stepped inside the smoky room and recognized The Doobie Brothers' _Rockin' Down the Highway_.

He strode up to the bar and ordered a beer as his eyes searched through the throng of people in search of the brothers. He spotted them near the pool tables in the back—the shaggy-haired one was sitting at a table, his head lowered while the spiky-haired one was lining up a shot, undoubtedly conning some poor loser out of his money.

Figuring the shaggy-haired one was the best way to go, he grabbed his beer from the bartender and left a few bills on the counter before making his way to the back of the room. He tried to remember if this one was the youngest Winchester, but decided to just go for it.

"Sam Winchester?" Peterson asked, an easy smile on his face.

The young man's head jerked up and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Depends."

"Sorry." Peterson held out a hand. "The name's Doug Peterson."

Sam just looked down at the hand, frowning. "Peterson? Not the Peterson that called us, right?"

Peterson smiled as he lowered his hand. "One and the same. So, does that make you Sam Winchester or not?"

"That makes him the little brother of the guy who wants to know what the hell you're doing here."

Both men looked up as Dean appeared at the table, his body tense. _Everyone warned me how protective he was of his kid brother. I guess it wasn't all talk, after all._

"I didn't mean to intrude," Peterson said, holding up a hand in surrender. "Really, guys, there's no harm here."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said softly and Peterson let out a relieved sigh as Dean's body slightly relaxed. "Doug, what are you doing here? I thought you said you couldn't make it here."

"You mind if I have a seat?" Peterson didn't wait for them to answer before he hiked himself up on one of the barstools. "I wrapped up my gig early. Figured I would swing by here and see how you boys were making out."

"No offense, Doug, but we don't need someone to check up on us," Dean said, still eyeing the hunter suspiciously. "Sam and I can handle ourselves pretty well."

"Hey, I'm not about to dispute that. You boys have certainly made a name for yourselves in the hunting community. We respect that."

"You respect that?" Dean asked, arching a brow in disbelief.

"Sure."

"Then why is it that every single one we run into would like nothing more than to put a bullet between our eyes?"

Peterson shrugged. "You two have got to understand. Ever since that gate opened, hunters have been looking for someone to blame. Since you boys were there, that blame unfortunately falls on you."

"So, are you telling us you're not in that category?" Sam asked.

"I'm not one to usually fall in line with others. I like making my own opinions," Peterson explained. "Besides, I knew your daddy. He was a good man."

"Yeah, he was," Sam said.

"So, what are you really doing here, Doug? Don't give me that crap about you checking up on us. That's what a phone is for," Dean said.

Peterson sighed. He should have known the Winchesters wouldn't play around. "Actually, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Why? It's just some fires," Sam argued.

Peterson looked around the crowded room, the music and chatter competing with each other in volume levels. "Listen, fellas…do you think we can go talk outside? I can barely hear myself think with all this racket."

The brothers exchanged a look.

"I won't take too much of your time," Peterson promised. "I just wanna talk somewhere it's a little more private."

"We'll give you five minutes—ten tops." Dean grabbed his beer from the table and led the way out the door. As soon as they were outside near the Impala, he whirled on the older hunter. "Talk."

"You two really don't waste any time, do you?"

"You're working on nine minutes," Dean said as Sam moved to stand beside him.

Peterson slumped his shoulders as he looked at the two grown men in front of him. There wasn't going to be any easy way to say it and he had a pretty good feeling they might strangle him as soon as he told them the truth. He knew it was a risk when he first thought about telling them and it was too late to turn back now.

"I think you guys are being set up," Peterson finally said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, taking a step forward.

Peterson took an involuntary step back. "There's no hunt here. There never was. You boys are being set up."

"By you?" Sam asked.

"Hell, no!"

"You were the one who called us," Dean said as he took another step forward. "You come here and tell us we're being set up and yet you deny any involvement?"

"Why did you call us?" Sam asked, putting a hand on Dean's arm.

"A friend of mine asked me to," Peterson admitted.

"Bobby Singer?"

"Well, yeah…but he has no idea about this. He thinks I was sending you guys on a true hunt." Peterson looked at the two imploringly. "I promise you Bobby Singer had no idea about this. He would never do this to you guys."

"And what do you think he's going to do when he finds out?" Dean asked.

"Probably ram a shotgun barrel straight up my ass after he shoves me into one of his junkyard compactors," Peterson said, but his voice held no humor. It was probably a dead-on, accurate picture of what Singer would do.

"Is that before or after I kill you myself?" Dean's voice was bordering on a growl.

"Doug, how about you explain everything to us and quit beating around the bush?" Sam asked, clearly annoyed.

"I got this call about a week ago about a favor I owed to a friend of mine. He didn't tell me what he wanted then, just that he would be in contact with me later." Peterson took a swig of his beer. "A few days later, he calls me back and tells me he wants to set you boys up on a hunt. He had this whole thing worked out—told me exactly what to say to get you two to come racing here."

"Did he say why he wanted you to do this?" Sam asked.

Peterson shrugged. "He just said it was a personal business matter. I didn't ask. In our world, you pay your debts back, no matter what with no questions asked."

"And you were okay with doing this?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Hell, no! Like I said—I liked your daddy. I respected him and the last thing I wanted was to see you boys get hurt. As soon as I got off the phone with Sam, I knew I'd done the wrong thing. When Gordon called me back, I told him as much."

"Guilty conscience, huh?"

Peterson narrowed his eyes at Dean. "We may be a hard-assed bunch most of the time, but most of us do have a conscience."

"Okay, so your conscience is kicking in—good for you," Sam commented. "Who the hell sent you after our ass?"

Peterson turned his gaze to Sam and his expression softened. "It's—"

The veteran hunter didn't have time to finish the sentence as a gunshot blasted through the air.


	6. Chapter 6

**Yeah, a fast update…please don't die of shock! I just couldn't leave you guys at that cliffhanger for a long time, so I'm gonna leave you with another one instead! Yeah, I'm evil…**

**I don't know when the next update will be since I'm currently on vacation!**

**Enjoy guys!**

**And thanks to the awesome Mizpah for the wonderful beta!**

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Everything seemed to slow down for Dean Winchester as he tried to register exactly what he was hearing and seeing.

One second ago, Peterson was telling the brothers they had been set up. Then the next second, a gunshot rang through the air, stopping Peterson from saying anything else. Dean followed the trajectory of the bullet as it raced past him and thudded into soft human flesh with a sickening _squish_.

The only thing Dean could think was that it had hit Sam, but when his brother looked over at Peterson with wide eyes, Dean was thankful he was wrong.

Everything seemed to go back to regular speed as Peterson hit the ground with a cry of pain and Dean pushed Sam to the ground as two more volleys fired above their heads, hitting Peterson's truck right where their heads had been. Dean huddled closer to Sam, shielding his younger brother's body with his own.

_Who the hell was taking potshots at them, especially in such a public place?_

Dean didn't risk lifting his head up, even as patrons rushed out of the bar to see what the commotion was all about. He wanted to be sure the shooter was finished because he wasn't willing to risk Sam getting shot. With their luck, as soon as they put their heads up, they'd get taken clean off.

"_Are they okay?"_

"_What happened?"_

"_Was someone shooting a gun out here?"_

"_Probably some stupid ass redneck, if you ask me…"_

"Dean?"

Dean finally lifted his head up high enough to see Sam was peering at him. "Sammy?"

"I think we should get up. I think the shooter's gone and people are starting to stare at us," Sam said with a glance behind him.

Dean followed Sam's gaze to see curious bystanders surrounding them. Rising slowly to his feet, he helped Sam up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "You?"

"I'm good."

"I don't think your friend's gettin' up, fellas," one of the men crowded around them said.

Both brothers looked over to see Peterson lying on the ground, not moving, with a gunshot wound to his abdomen. Sam dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse, relieved when he found a faint one.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" he yelled, hoping someone in the crowd would be coherent enough for the simple task.

"They're already on their way!" shouted one of the patrons.

Sam lightly tapped the downed hunter's cheeks, trying to see if he could get any kind of response from him. When he didn't get any, he just looked up at Dean and shook his head and then applied pressure to Peterson's wound, hoping to stem the flow of blood. He didn't even want to begin to guess how much the man had already lost.

Within ten minutes, an ambulance, followed closely by a squad car, pulled into the parking lot, emergency lights flashing. A paramedic stepped in to take over for Sam and as the young hunter moved out of the way, he accepted a couple of wet wipes from the other paramedic to clean the blood from his hands.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dean asked the medics.

The first one glanced quickly over her shoulder at him. "We're not too sure since he's lost a good deal of blood. Your friend did good applying pressure to his wound, so he may get lucky."

"Did you boys see what happened?" A pot-bellied officer with thinning brown hair asked, pulling the brothers' attention away from Peterson.

"Not exactly," Sam answered.

"What exactly does 'not exactly' mean?"

"We were standing out here with him. We didn't see who shot him or who decided to take a couple of potshots at us while they were at it," Dean said.

"Can you take a guess about what direction the shots may have come from?"

Sam shook his head as the paramedics loaded Peterson onto a gurney and headed towards the waiting ambulance. "Sorry."

"It was coming from back that way," Dean said, pointing to a thicket of woods. "Other than that, we can't tell you a thing."

"You boys got anyone who might have a beef with you?"

Dean wanted to ask the cop if he was joking, but then again, he didn't want to have to stand there all night and explain what he meant. "We're just passing through town. We don't know anyone here," he said instead.

The officer shrugged. "Maybe you two or your friend was mistaken for someone else. Wrong place, wrong time sort of deal."

"Yeah, or maybe it was some redneck who had too much to drink," Dean muttered.

"What was that?" the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing," Sam said, quickly jumping in. "He didn't say anything."

The officer kept his gaze on Dean as he talked to Sam. "If there's nothing else you boys can tell me, then you're free to go back to wherever it is you're staying. But don't leave town until we give you the okay in case we've got some more questions."

"Yes sir," Sam said with a nod of his head. He nodded to the ambulance as it was pulling away, its sirens blaring. "Where are they taking him?"

"Manchester General," the officer answered as he flipped his notebook shut. "Remember what I said about staying in town."

"Sure thing, Officer," Sam said with a smile. He watched the officer walk away and glared at his brother as soon as the cop was out of earshot. "Do you always have to be such an ass to the police?"

Dean shrugged. "I've always been that way to them, Sammy. Why should I start acting any differently now?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he got into the Impala with Dean. "Maybe because one day you're gonna to manage to piss off the wrong one and I'm gonna have to come bail your ass out."

Dean only smiled as he pulled out onto the road and headed back towards their motel. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to Peterson and what the hunter was saying before he was shot. He could have sworn he heard Peterson say "Gordon" and as far as he knew, there was only one Gordon in the hunting world who happened to be pissed off enough at the Winchesters to want to take out a little revenge on them

Still, he was hoping maybe he'd been hearing things. After all, one psycho after their asses was enough to deal with. He didn't even want to entertain the thought that another one was after them as well. Something even worse to consider was that they could be working together. If that were happening, well the term "screwed to hell" wouldn't begin to describe what the brothers would be.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, Dean got out without a word and unlocked their door. Taking off his jacket, he threw it on one of the chairs and collapsed on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm.

"What's bothering you, man?" Sam asked as he pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down.

Dean lifted his arm to see Sam was gazing at him in concern. _Damn Sammy and his inquisitive nature. A guy can't even take time for himself to think…_ "It's nothin', Sammy," he said before covering up his eyes again.

"Dean…"

And there was that tone of voice Dean couldn't stand. It was something between a whine and a beg and it was one that Dean had never been able to resist. Dean was sure if he looked over at Sam now, he would see the dreaded puppy dog eyes and it would be over for him.

Resigning to his fate, Dean slowly sat up and peered at Sam through long lashes. "You didn't catch what Peterson said before he was shot, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, genuinely perplexed.

Dean shook his head. "You didn't because if you did, you would have been freaking out by now," he said, almost as if to himself.

"Dean?"

"Peterson let the name slip—the one who's been setting this whole thing up," Dean explained. "He said it was Gordon, Sammy. Now we only know one Gordon who would want to pull something like this on us."

Sam shook his head slowly. "That part may be true, Dean, but Gordon's locked away in prison for Scott Carey's murder, not to mention the serious weapons charge he has against him. Gordon's not getting out for a long time."

"Look, dude, I don't want to be right about this, either, but it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I guess…" Sam admitted reluctantly.

Dean sighed. "If Gordon's out, then you can be damned sure that he's lookin' for us. You saw the look in his eyes when we had his ass arrested."

"Yeah…"

Dean wanted to be wrong about this. He didn't want Gordon to be out there, roaming the streets because he knew what that meant. He knew Gordon wouldn't stop hunting down Sam until he was dead and Dean just couldn't have that. There would be no way of talking Gordon out of it, especially considering his last attempt of talking with the psycho vampire hunter failed miserably. And now that the Hell's Gate opened with the brothers at ground zero, it would only add fuel to Gordon Walker's fire.

Jumping up from his bed, Dean reached into his jacket pocked and grabbed his cell phone. There was one way they could be sure Gordon wasn't free.

"Who are you calling?" Sam asked as Dean dialed a number.

"Bobby," Dean answered. "He'll be the one to tell us if we have to worry about Gordon. He can find out something a helluva lot faster than we can."

"_Dean, that you?"_

"Yeah, hey Bobby…" Dean's voice trailed off as he became unsure if he really wanted to ask Bobby. If he asked the grizzled hunter about Gordon and Bobby confirmed it for him then it would be some serious bad news. But if Bobby got back to them and said Gordon was still tucked away in prison, then it would be a big relief.

"_If I wanted to listen to dead air, I would turn my TV on, Dean."_

"Sorry," Dean said quickly. "I need you to check something for us if you can."

"_Are you boys in trouble with that hunt?"_

"That's what I'm hoping you can tell us," Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"_What do you mean?"_

"There is no hunt, Bobby. We were set up."

"_What the hell does that mean? I thought Dougie said there was a demon running loose down there."_

"Well, Dougie was lying through his ass. He found me and Sam and told us he'd been asked to set us up."

"_Why would he do that?"_

"Apparently he owed some guy a favor."

"_Dean, I had no idea Doug was doin' this…" _Bobby said in an apologetic tone.

"Bobby, I never said you did. In fact, Doug said you had no idea what was going on. He looked as if he felt bad for even getting you involved because he knew there was no way you'd screw us over," Dean explained.

"_You better tell him to stay away from me or I'm gonna shove a barrel full of buckshot up his ass," _Bobby warned.

"Yeah, he said you would do something like that, but someone beat you to the punch," Dean admitted.

"_What are you talking about?"_

"Doug was shot before he could give us too much information. He's at the hospital right now, but they're not too sure if he's gonna make it or not."

"_Did he tell you who's calling the shots?"_

"Yeah, he mentioned a name…Gordon."

"_Gordon? As in Gordon Walker?"_

"That's what we're thinking, but he's supposed to be in prison right now. That's what we need for you to check out."

"_You think he's after Sam?"_

Dean sighed. "I sure hope to hell not, Bobby. Call me as soon as you find out anything, okay?"

"_Yeah, I should have something back to you in less than ten minutes."_

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean hung up the phone and put it down on the table. Rubbing at his eyes, he realized Sam was no longer in the room with him.

"Sam?"

Dean walked over to the closed bathroom door and knocked on it, but got no answer. "Sammy, you in there?"

Dean was about to start panicking when the door to the room opened and Sam slipped inside, his cellular in hand.

"Dude, where the hell did you go?" Dean demanded.

Sam frowned as he held up his phone. "I went outside and called the hospital while you were talking to Bobby. I wanted to see how Peterson was doing."

Dean punched his brother on the arm. "Don't you ever sneak out like that again, you hear me? You almost gave me a damn heart attack."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Dad."

Dean let the comment slip. "So, what did the hospital say?"

Sam let out a sigh. "They said they have him stabilized for now. He lost a good deal of blood and they performed surgery to repair the damage. Luckily, the bullet missed any vital organs and he's breathing on his own, so that's good."

"Yeah."

"What did Bobby say?"

"He's gonna get back to us as soon as he can." As soon as Dean finished his sentence, his cell phone rang. "Looks like he got back to us."

"_I've got some bad news for ya, kid." _Bobby's voice said as way of greeting.

"Honestly, I would have thought something was wrong if you gave us good news, Bobby," Dean admitted with a look to Sam. "What is it?"

"_Gordon got out almost four months ago. Apparently, the evidence with the Scott Carey murder got misplaced somehow, so those charges were dropped. They let him go with probation on the weapons charges since he had registration for all of the guns they cops found in his car."_

"Great."

"_You boys need to be careful. There was talk that Gordon was coming for Sam as soon as he got out and he wasn't gonna stop until that brother of yours was dead."_

"Yeah, that's what I figured." Dean sighed. "Thanks for letting us know something, Bobby."

"_You call me if you need anything. I mean it, Dean."_

"We will." Dean hung up and saw Sam staring at him expectantly.

"Well?"

Dean shook his head. "He was released four months ago."

"Great, so now not only do we have Robbie to deal with, we have to worry about Gordon, too," Sam said bitterly.

"We're not gonna let them get us, Sammy."

Sam frowned as he looked at his brother. "Dean, what if they're working together?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I thought about that, too."

"So, now we just sit on our asses and wait for them to get us?" Sam asked.

"Hell, no. I'm not about to let that happen and I'm not about to let them get to you. They'll have to go over my dead body before that happens."

Sam chuckled bitterly. "I have a feeling even if that happened, Dean, you still wouldn't let them get through."

Dean smiled. "You got that right." He turned sober. "Seriously, dude, we just have to stay on our toes and stay one step ahead of them. We're not gonna go down without a fight."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Doug Peterson was in a blissful, pain-free state.

It was amazing what painkillers could do, especially with an IV drip pumping them into you as often as you needed it. It almost made getting shot totally worth it or at least, that's what his fogy mind was telling him anyway.

He should have known Gordon Walker was watching him. There was no way the vampire hunter was going to let someone get in the way of his plans. It was why Gordon always worked alone, because he couldn't tolerate anyone standing in his way. Everyone in the hunting circle knew that and they didn't dare step on his toes.

But Peterson just couldn't let those boys go on without knowing what they were dealing with. It wasn't fair to them and he didn't want to let John Winchester's spirit down like that. Peterson already felt bad about putting Gordon's devious plans to fruition and so maybe he deserved to be shot.

Peterson was a big believer in fate and he always thought along the lines of you got what you deserved and you just had to deal with what the Good Lord gave you. That's all there was to it, plain and simple.

_Maybe I can get out of here soon and make sure those boys stay safe. Hell, if Gordon was willing to shoot me in a public place, nothing's gonna stop him from going after the Winchester brothers with everything he has in his arsenal._

Peterson was vaguely aware of the door to his room opening, but as he opened his eyes to mere slits, his foggy vision could only make out a blurred shape as it closed the door silently and slowly crept towards his bed. As the figure stepped closer, he finally noticed the white lab coat.

Peterson grinned. "I gotta tell ya, Doc…whatever you have in this IV, it's good."

"I'm glad you think so," the doctor said in a deep voice.

_Wait, I know that voice!_

Peterson's eyes popped open to see Gordon Walker peering down at him, smiling coldly. "How the hell did you get in here?" The injured hunter didn't bother hiding the fear in his raspy voice. A person would have to be a moron not to be afraid of Gordon.

"Don't you see the lab coat, Peterson? I'm a doctor," Gordon said, chuckling.

Peterson made a frantic grab for his call button, but Gordon beat him to it and held it out of the injured man's reach.

"You wouldn't be thinking of actually calling anyone, now would you?" Gordon asked.

"What do you want?" Peterson asked.

Gordon gave a casual shrug. "I want to know what you told the Winchesters."

"You mean, before you decided to shoot me?"

"Yeah. Before that."

"I gave them your name if you're worried about that," Peterson said with as much bravado as he could muster.

Gordon clucked his tongue. "You shouldn't have done that, Peterson. I thought we had an understanding with each other."

"Did you honestly think I was gonna let you hunt down John Winchester's boys like animals?"

"But one of his boys is an animal—or he will be. And his brother is just as bad as he is, sheltering him from what needs to be done."

"Go to Hell, Gordon."

Gordon smiled. "Be sure to save me a seat down there, Peterson."

Peterson watched with wide eyes as Gordon reached into the lab coat and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Still not quite able to use his full voice, he could only watch as Gordon inserted the needle into the IV and released the substance.

"What the hell is that, Gordon?" Peterson asked.

"Just a dose of potassium. I hear it's good for you, unless you happen to get an overdose of it." Gordon recapped the syringe and put it back in his pocket before leaning down to address Peterson. "I imagine you don't have too much longer before you go into arrest, Peterson. You better make your last breath a good one."

With one last chuckle, Gordon left Peterson to his fate.


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, I'm back from vacation and I had an absolute blast! (White-water rafting and a haunted ghost walk, anyone?) Seriously, if you ever get the chance to go to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, I highly recommend it. It is absolutely breathtakingly beautiful up there and there is so much to do!**

**That being said, now that I've gotten back, the writing bug has bit me right in the ass and refuses to leave until this little story is finished. What does that mean for you? Well, it means you get a weekly update until it is completed!**

**Thanks again for all of your continued support and reviews. They mean so much to me and the comments have really blown me away!**

**As always, I want to thank the lovely Mizpah for the wonderful beta! You rock, Mum!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I thought you just talked to the hospital," Dean said as the brothers walked through the front entrance of Manchester General Hospital. "You mind telling me again why we had to come all the way out here?"

Sam sighed as they made their way to the nurses' station. "I figure it's the least we can do for Doug, Dean. He did risk his life to warn us about Gordon."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, after he served us up to the bastard."

"Look, I told you, you didn't have to come in here with me. I could have run in here by myself," Sam said.

"Oh, yeah—like I'm about to let you out of my sight for even a second, especially after Gordon tried to kill us not even five hours ago," Dean grumbled.

Sam didn't say anything as he turned his attention to the nurse, a pretty woman with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, sitting at the station. "Excuse me—we're wondering what room Doug Peterson is in."

"Are you family?" the nurse asked.

"We're his nephews," Sam lied.

The woman picked up a clipboard and quickly scanned it. "Doug Peterson you said?"

"That's right."

The nurse frowned. "He doesn't seem to be on here anymore."

Sam frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not really sure myself," she answered. "I just clocked in for my shift. Are you sure he's a patient here?"

"He should have been brought in a couple of hours ago," Dean said, stepping in. "He was shot."

"Well, like I said—I'm not seeing anything here." She glanced behind her as another woman with a slightly round build and short red hair walked behind the desk. "Hey, Cheryl—do you know anything about a Doug Peterson that was brought in earlier?"

Cheryl glanced up at the Winchesters. "Are you family?"

"We're his nephews," Dean answered impatiently.

Cheryl frowned as she gazed at the brothers sympathetically. "Maybe we should go somewhere to talk."

"Will someone please tell us what the hell is going on?" Dean demanded, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

"Dean…"

Cheryl went around the desk and led the brothers a short distance down the hall where they could talk in private. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your uncle passed away almost a half hour ago."

"There has to be some kind of mistake," Sam protested. "I called about an hour ago and I was told he was doing fine."

Nurse Cheryl shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to tell you." She glanced behind Sam and Dean and beckoned for someone to join them. "Here's your uncle's doctor—I'll let him tell you what happened."

A man who looked remarkably like Patrick Dempsey, wearing a long white coat over khakis and a navy polo shirt walked up to join the group. "I'm Doctor Jones—can I help you boys with something?"

"They're Doug Peterson's nephews," Cheryl explained before leaving the Winchesters and the doctor alone.

"Can someone just explain what happened and quit making us move up the hierarchy to find some damn answers?" Dean demanded, clearly annoyed.

Doctor Jones sighed tiredly. "I'm afraid your uncle passed away. We did everything we could possibly do, but unfortunately, it wasn't enough."

_I wonder how many times you've used that line,_ Sam thought, feeling slightly frustrated that they weren't getting more out of the hospital staff. _You would think Doug Peterson was the friggin' President or something…_

"Yeah, we already know that," Dean bit out. "Do you think you can give us a little more?"

_Leave it to Dean to voice exactly what I'm feeling, _Sam mused, trying to hide a smile when the doctor appeared flustered by Dean's tone.

"It would appear that your uncle was given an overdose of potassium by mistake," Doctor Jones said, his lips set in a firm line.

"How the hell is an overdose a mistake?" Dean challenged.

Doctor Jones took an involuntary step back, sending a look over his shoulder. Figuring the doctor was about to call for security, Sam stepped in, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Doctor Jones, how is that possible?" Sam asked gently, giving Dean a look that said "back off."

The McDreamy look-alike turned his attention to Sam, figuring the younger hunter would be his safest bet to address. "We're the only hospital serving several towns and we're understaffed—we honestly do the best we can do under the circumstances." He shrugged a shoulder. "The only thing I can figure is that the order got screwed somehow or an intern forgot to make a note in Mr. Peterson's chart after the potassium was administered."

"Has something like that ever happened before?" Sam asked.

Doctor Jones shrugged. "Regrettably, it's something that happens across the country's hospitals every day." He reached out a hand and gently squeezed Sam's arm. "I'm really sorry about your uncle."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

Glaring one final time at Dean, the doctor strode away, never giving them a second glance.

"So, do we believe that load of crap?" Dean asked as soon as they were alone.

Sam shook his head. "There's no way Peterson's death was a mistake, Dean. You and I both know who was behind this."

Dean nodded. "Gordon."

"He wanted to stop Peterson from helping us. The gunshot didn't do it, so he came in here to finish the job," Sam said disgustedly.

Dean gazed around the hall, watching as staff walked up and down the corridor. "You know, even being short-staffed, how could they just let anyone get up here? I mean, this is the I.C.U. ward—this place is usually guarded more heavily than Fort Knox."

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "He did what a hunter always does, Dean—he adapted to the situation. He probably easily passed for a doctor."

"That's a terrifying thought," Dean muttered as he led the way out of the hospital and back towards the Impala. "Talk about Doc Kevorkian in the flesh. I'm sure Gordon's conscience never kicked in as he dosed Peterson up."

Sam snorted. "Since when does Gordon Walker have a conscience?"

"Good point," Dean acknowledged as he slid behind the wheel. Inserting the key into the ignition, he hesitated before turning the engine over.

"Dean…what is it?" Sam asked, concerned. He could tell something was bothering Dean and now wasn't the time to keep things from each other when they had two psychopaths gunning for their asses.

Dean sighed before looking at Sam. "We're running with the assumption that Gordon and Robbie are working together, right?"

"Yeah—it's the most plausible reasoning we have right now."

"Exactly," Dean said, nodding. "We know what the two of them are capable of separately, Sammy. Have we even stopped to consider what they're capable of if they're working together?"

Sam frowned, trying to figure out where his brother was going with this. "Dean…what are you trying to say?"

Dean turned away from Sam's inquisitive gaze, instead focusing on a speck of dust on the dashboard. "We have enough to worry about as it is, Sam, without having Gordon and his little freak chasing our asses…"

Sam's frown deepened when he finally realized what Dean was suggesting. "Dean…are you saying that we should run?"

"No!" Dean said quickly, looking at Sam again. Then his gaze dropped. "I mean…unless you want to…It's just that I'm tired of people gunning for us, Sammy. I'm tired of us constantly having to watch our backs just because…well…just because. I mean, our list of people—or things—that are after us would make Webster's look like a waiting room read. Why should we have to stick around and wait for them to come get us? Why not get out while we still can and do things on our own terms."

Sam was silent while he considered what his sibling was saying. Sure, they could walk away from this and put Oneida in their rearview mirror, but the truth of the matter was Gordon and Robbie would still find them, no matter where they went. Sam really didn't want to play hide-and-seek across the entire country, especially when there were other pressing matters to deal with.

Namely Dean's deal.

How in the hell was he supposed to find a way out of that mess if he constantly had to check over his shoulder to see if they were being pursued? He wasn't going to do it—simple as that. He was going to put an end to this, once and for all.

"I can't do that, Dean," Sam said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because we've never run away from a problem before and we're not about to start now," Sam admitted. "I want an end brought to this, even if it means…"

"That Gordon and Robbie are killed?"

Sam shrugged but didn't say anything.

"Can you really do that, Sammy?"

"I'm not saying we seek them out and kill them in cold blood like they did to the Jennings family and Peterson," Sam said. "But in the end, if it comes down to killing them in order to save our lives, then I don't see any other way around it."

Dean quirked a brow. "That's something new out of you."

"What can I say, Dean? I'm full of surprises," Sam said, wryly.

"That you are, little brother." Dean smiled as he started the Impala. "You certainly are full of surprises."

Sam gave a faint grin before turning serious again. "It's not only that, Dean. We owe it to Adam as well. He deserves to have justice for what they did to him and his family. I don't want him to be afraid for the rest of his life, wondering if his family's killers are still out there, wanting to do the same to him."

"We're not gonna let that happen, Sammy," Dean said as he pulled onto the road, headed back for Oneida. "Adam's never gonna fear them again."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Gordon Walker parked his old beat up truck, a smile tugged at his lips. Sure, his earlier attempt at getting rid of Peterson didn't exactly go to plan but he'd made up for that at the hospital. The traitorous hunter would no longer be a problem—he wouldn't be able to get in the way of their plans for the Winchesters.

Gordon had to admit he'd been worried about the entire situation after he'd heard the reluctance in Peterson's voice. In the back of his mind, he knew Peterson would flip on him. It was the price to pay when hunters felt loyal to each other. Gordon always knew how loyal Peterson was to John Winchester and he knew it would be a gamble to use Peterson. But it was the only way to lure the Winchester brothers to Kentucky. It had to be someone the boys could trust somewhat and Peterson just happened to fit the bill at the time.

Gordon generally didn't like to kill fellow hunters but the situation simply warranted it. He knew word would get out about what he did to Peterson, but he could deal with that later. Hunters didn't take kindly to their brethren being murdered by fellow hunters and it would only be a matter of time before they came after Gordon.

The vampire hunter was okay with that though—as long as he got rid of Sam Winchester first. When he accomplished that then anything and anyone could come after him. If there was one thing Gordon Walker was good at it was taking care of himself. He'd done it ever since he was a teenager and he would continue to do it until the day he died. He didn't need anyone to watch his back.

That wasn't saying he didn't like having Robbie around. The kid was okay, even if he was a little overzealous. But Gordon remembered he was just like that when he was young, too. It helped in this business and though Robbie would never amount to a great hunter, Gordon was happy to pass his knowledge off to the young man. It was almost as if he was sharing his legacy and since he really didn't have a family to do that, Robbie would be the next best candidate.

If he stopped screwing around, that is.

Gordon didn't miss the way Robbie had been avoiding him ever since the boy let the youngest Winchester catch a glimpse of him. Robbie was scared and he wasn't doing a great job of hiding it. Gordon never meant to be so rough on the kid; he just wanted to make sure he stayed safe and finally got the vengeance he deserved.

Pushing through the door, Gordon wasn't surprised to see Robbie rushing forward to meet him.

"Did you do it?" Robbie asked, eagerly. "Is it done?"

Gordon smiled chillingly. "Peterson will no longer be a problem for us."

Robbie nodded. "Good—I was really worried about him." He swallowed nervously. "What about the brothers?"

The vampire hunter walked into the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator, Robbie at his heels like an obedient puppy. "Peterson told them my name so they definitely know I'm in town."

"What does that mean for us?" Robbie asked anxiously.

Gordon popped the top and chugged down the beer, letting the cold alcohol soothe his parched throat. "It means we have to move up our game."

"Really?"

Gordon didn't miss the excitement in the young man's voice. "Yep. We catch them off-guard, they'll never know what hit them." Finishing up the beer, he threw the bottle into the trash can. "So, are you ready?"

Robbie just smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

Gordon reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Holding it out to Robbie, he said, "You know what to do."

Robbie snatched the phone out of the older man's hand and dialed. "Hello…is this the police? I know who shot that man at the bar…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you gonna be okay here while I run across the street to grab some supplies for our first aid kit?" Dean asked Sam after they'd given their breakfast order to the waitress.

Sam rolled his eyes, reminding Dean of a teenager who was getting tired of answering his parents' questions. "It's not gonna be like this the entire time, is it, Dean?"

"Look, Sam…we have no idea when or where the psychotic duo will strike. Until then, it can't hurt to be a little cautious."

"Dude, you're talking about walking to a store that is literally two doors down from here," Sam said. "I think I can manage without you for a few minutes."

Dean sighed as he got from the counter bar stool. "You don't have to be such a smart ass about it."

"And you don't have to be such an overprotective jerk," Sam muttered, staring down into his coffee cup.

Dean figured it was best not to argue with Sam when he was in an obviously pissed-off mood. Instead, he just walked out of the diner before he could say something he would regret. The last thing they really needed was to be in a major fight in the middle of everything else that was going on.

Dean had to admit, it was nice to be with his own thoughts for a few minutes, without having Sam around. Truth was, after Sam's admission last night about killing Gordon if they had to, Dean was worried about his brother. It was just so unlike Sam to immediately jump to something like that and Dean couldn't help but think about what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had said back in Cold Oak.

Was this what the Demon meant by saying Sam didn't come back right? Could his kid brother really consider killing a person, even if said person deserved it? Dean really hoped it wouldn't turn out to be the case. He couldn't see Sam as 'different'. If Sam suddenly changed into someone or _something_ other than himself, Dean wasn't quite sure how he would handle that. He just had to believe the Yellow-Eyed Demon was just pulling his chain.

Right?

Dean was so intent on his thoughts, he didn't notice the car pulling up beside him. He also didn't notice the slamming of doors and the stomping of feet as they approached him.

"Freeze! Put your hands on your head!"

Dean jerked to a stop, startled to see a couple of police officers pointing their guns at him. _What the hell? How in the hell did the police find me in Podunk, America, especially since Sam and me have been so careful after what happened in Arkansas with Henrickson?_

"Put your hands on your head right now!" The officer to his right directed him.

"What's going on?" Dean asked as he slowly put his hands up.

The officer's partner came behind Dean and forced his hands behind his back before slapping a pair of handcuffs on the hunter's wrists. "You're under arrest for the murder of Doug Peterson. Anything you say can and will be used against you…"

Dean tuned out as the officer continued to read out his Miranda Rights. _What the hell did he just say? I'm being arrested for Peterson's murder? What the hell is going on here?_

"I didn't do anything…" Dean protested as the officer shoved him towards the waiting squad car.

"Yeah, yeah…that's what they all say," the officer who arrested him drawled.

"Where's your proof?"

The other officer nodded towards the Winchesters' motel room where another cop was exiting, holding a large plastic bag containing a rifle. "How's that for proof?"

Dean frowned in confusion, watching the scene unfold before his very eyes. Things could not possibly get any more screwed now. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was behind this little fiasco—it had Gordon Walker written all over it. This was done in order to split Dean away from Sam so his brother would be left unguarded. It was the only explanation, considering he and Sam were with Peterson when the hunter was shot.

Just then, he spotted Sam emerging from the diner, his brother's eyes widening when he saw Dean. Before Sam could take two steps forward, Dean gave a slight shake of his head and a glare, hoping Sam got the hint to stay back.

Sam obviously got the message as he slinked back into the slowly forming crowd that was coming out onto the street to see what was going on.

_Thank God for small miracles, _Dean thought as he was shoved into the car. Now he just had to pray for another one and hope nothing happened to Sam until he could figure a way out of this mess.


	8. Chapter 8

**So…I couldn't wait an entire week to update so I decided to give ya'll a little treat tonight. The next update will come this Friday, so be on the lookout!**

**Thanks again for the reviews and comments, everyone! They really encouraged me to get this little puppy done and I'm so happy that you're enjoying it because it's been a blast to write!**

**Oh, and you're welcome for the cliffie…**

**Many mucho thanks to my awesome beta, Mizpah!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

There must have been some standard plan for décor all interrogation rooms had to go with when police stations were built. Or at least, that's what Dean Winchester figured. He'd already been in three previous ones and they all managed to look that same. The one in Oneida, Kentucky wasn't disappointing, either.

Cinder block walls. One bare fluorescent light in the middle of the ceiling. Iron bars over the lone window in the room. A two-way mirror through which Dean was sure he was being scrutinized from the other side. He was tempted to give them a gesture just to see if it would get any kind of reaction out of them. Just as he was about to raise his cuffed hands to do it, the door to the room opened and two men walked in.

"Let me guess—Cheech and Chong?" Dean asked, smirking.

The first guy cracked a smile. "I see we have a comedian on our hands." He looked back at his partner. "Isn't there usually a two drink minimum with one of these acts, Miller?"

Miller said nothing as he glared at Dean.

Dean focused his attention on Miller's partner. "A cop with a sense of humor—I can appreciate that considering most of you always act like you have a stick shoved up your ass."

"I'm Detective Gattis," he said, pulling out a seat across from Dean. He nodded towards his partner. "And that's Detective Miller. I'm thinking that would make you Dean Winchester."

"And I'm thinking that is some fine detective work you're doing," Dean answered.

Gattis ignored him. "You know why you're here, don't you, Dean?"

Dean nodded as he leaned forward in his chair. "I do. It's because you don't know how to do your jobs and you're collaring the wrong man for Doug Peterson's murder."

Gattis grinned. "Give us a little credit, Dean. We may be a small hick town in the middle of Kentucky, but we have managed to get a seventh-grade education."

Dean chuckled at the detective's joke and nodded at Miller. "So, does your partner know how to speak or do you have to give him the command?"

Gattis shrugged. "Miller is more of the strong, silent type. He'd rather I do all the talking." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "So…do you want to tell us what happened?"

Dean mimicked Gattis' movements as best as he could with the cuffs. "Why don't you tell me what you think happened and I'll tell you you're wrong when you're finished?"

"Fine," Gattis said with a sigh. "You killed Doug Peterson with a rifle we found in your motel room."

Dean nodded his head slowly. "And you're wrong."

"How?"

"Well, let's think about that for a moment. When Peterson was shot, I was standing not two feet away from him, talking," Dean explained, leaving Sam out of it. "Then the crack who was doing the shooting decided to take a couple of shots at me. Oh, and let's not forget about the fact that I spoke to one of your officers on the scene."

Gattis exchanged a glance with Miller.

"Are you sure about that seventh-grade education now?" Dean asked.

"How did you happen to know Doug Peterson?" Gattis asked.

"He was a friend of the family," Dean answered. "But last night was the first time I actually met the guy."

"What did the two of you talk about?"

"The weather," Dean said. "He was a real Weather Channel buff. We were debating where Jim Cantore would make his next appearance."

"Do you think this is some kind of joke, Dean?"

"It's a little funny to me, yes."

"What about the other guy you were spotted with at the bar?"

Dean frowned. "What other guy?"

"Tall, with long brown hair," Gattis said.

_Sorry, Dick…I'm not about to bring Sam into this mess. _"It was probably just some guy from the bar. Peterson and I were the only ones who were talking in the parking lot when he was shot."

"So, you're saying that our witnesses are lying?"

"I'm saying that your witnesses were drunk. It was a bar, after all." Dean let out a bored sigh. "Listen, how about I make this easier for you two and point you in the direction of the actual killers?"

"Killers?" Gattis asked, a brow arching. "So, you have a partner working with you then?"

"Are you not listening to anything I'm saying?" Dean asked. "I didn't do it. I never saw that gun before in my life."

Miller finally moved to the table and looked down at Dean. "So, maybe you didn't kill Peterson but we found some really interesting things when we ran your prints, Dean."

"What's that?" Dean asked, but he already knew what Miller was going to tell him. Any second now, he was sure he could expect Henrickson knocking on the door.

"Seems you're pretty high on the FBI's Most Wanted list. Murder…credit card fraud…kidnapping…grave desecration." Miller smirked. "Should I continue?"

"I think you owe me a phone call," Dean said, glaring at Miller.

Miller finally grinned. "I hope to God you know the number for a really good lawyer, Dean. You're gonna need it."

Dean only watched as the two detectives left him alone in the interrogation room. If he thought he was royally screwed before, he had another thing coming. There was no way in the world they would let him slip away again.

_I am in such deep shit right now…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam Winchester was going out of his mind.

For the past hour or so, he'd done nothing but wear a hole in the motel carpet by pacing back and forth in his new room. After Dean had been arrested, Sam had tried to get back into their room but he'd had to wait until the police were finished scouring it for evidence. As soon as they were gone, he'd quickly gathered their clothes and their few meager possessions and checked into another room. Sam was happy they'd left the majority of their weapons in the Impala because what few were in there, had been confiscated by the cops.

Now he was left to do nothing but worry.

Sam had no idea what was going on and it was driving him crazy. He didn't like being in the dark about anything, especially when it concerned Dean.

Had someone recognized Dean from the wanted posters and called it in? Had someone seen them wandering around the Jennings' home, which had still been a closed crime scene? Or was there something else going on—namely, Gordon and Robbie.

Sam had to admit it would be a good play on their part. They knew there was no way the Winchesters would ever willingly split apart from each other, so they forced them to be apart. It couldn't be said that Gordon and Robbie weren't intelligent—everything they'd done so far had been cold and calculating, with a lot of thought and detail put into it.

Just that thought alone made an icy chill go down Sam's spine.

_What else could they possibly be planning and how far are they willing to go?_

Sam knew the answer—they would go as far as it would take them.

Crossing over to the window, he barely moved the curtain to take a peek outside. Part of him hoped Dean would walk into the room any minute now, that everything had just been a simple misunderstanding. But that pesky rational part of him told the young hunter that he wouldn't be that lucky.

Truth was, as he glanced out the window, he couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched. He knew it wasn't his imagination. Hunting for years had taught him to always go with his gut and right now it was screaming that someone was out there.

Closing the curtain, Sam crossed over to double check that the door was locked. He couldn't afford to be sloppy now. He couldn't be caught off-guard, especially when Dean wasn't here to get his back. Not that Sam couldn't rely on and take care of himself—he always just felt better when Dean was around. They functioned more smoothly as a team.

The ringing of his phone tore Sam away from his thoughts. Quickly digging it out of his pocket, Sam frowned at the unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"_Sammy?"_

"Dean!" Sam felt relief course down his body at the sound of his brother's voice. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"_I'm fine except these jackasses here think I killed Peterson."_

"What? Why the hell would they think that?" Sam asked as he lowered himself onto his bed.

"_Because apparently I was set up. They found the rifle in our room that was used to kill Peterson," _Dean explained.

"Set up? By whom?"

"_Do I really have to give you two guesses on that one?"_

Sam closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Gordon and Robbie."

"_Yahtzee. But it gets worse, Sammy."_

"How can it possibly get any worse, Dean?"

"_They ran my prints and found my sparkling record, so the FBI's gonna be knocking on the door at any moment."_

"Damn…"

"_I would have gone with 'shit,' but yeah."_

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and stood up to resume his pacing. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"_The only thing you can do right now, Sammy, is be careful," _Dean warned. _"This wasn't a coincidence. They split us up."_

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that one out."

"_Just stay in the motel room and don't venture out on your own. Maybe something good will happen and I can get out of here soon."_

"Do you really believe that?" Sam asked as he moved to the window to look out again.

"_Not even a little bit." _Dean sighed. _"They're telling me to get off the phone. Remember what I said, Sammy—be careful."_

"You too, Dean."

Sam hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. He wondered if it could possibly get any worse now, but honestly, he didn't want to know the answer…

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gordon Walker smiled as he lowered his binoculars. He'd been sitting across the street, hiding at the edge of the woods, watching the motel room since the crack of dawn. He'd watched as the brothers left for breakfast earlier and he'd had ringside seats when the police arrested Dean.

He had to admit, it had felt vindicating to watch while the cops had taken down Dean. It had only been fair to serve the Winchesters the same treatment they'd served him all those months ago in Indiana.

For the last hour or so, he'd been watching as Sam paced back and forth in the motel room. He'd smiled when he saw the youngest Winchester keep checking through the curtains, almost as if he knew Gordon was out there waiting for him. It felt good to put that fear in Sam and the vampire hunter was going to enjoy taking the psychic freak out of the picture.

Creatures like that didn't deserve to live and the way Gordon saw it, he was going to do the world a favor. It might even make the hunters forget about what he'd done to Doug Peterson. Maybe not immediately, but they would eventually forget. Sam Winchester was on the top of quite a few hunters' lists and Gordon wanted to be the one to eliminate him.

Spying Sam move to the window once again, Gordon saw he was now on the phone, a tense look on his face.

"Looks like he's talking to big brother," Gordon murmured. "I guess Dean finally got his phone call. Too bad it's not gonna help either of them."

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Gordon extracted his own phone and hit the speed dial for Robbie's number. "Are you ready for your performance?" The hunter asked as soon as Robbie answered.

"_I was just waiting on your word," _Robbie answered.

"It's Showtime," Gordon said, chuckling softly. "Oh, and Robbie?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Make it good."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean couldn't stop the anxiousness coursing through his body as he once again sat alone in the interrogation room. He hadn't missed the slight apprehension in Sam's voice while he'd spoken to his little brother. Though Sam was trying his best to hide it, Dean knew that the kid was worried.

Hell, Dean was worried, too.

He didn't like feeling trapped and that was exactly how he felt being in here. Gordon knew there was nothing he could do and that angered Dean to no end. The unstable hunter knew exactly how to get Dean out of the way and if he'd been in the room with him, Dean would have given him a standing ovation. It was a clever move and one Dean would have used if the roles had been reversed.

Dean really hoped he could get out of this mess. He needed to get back to Sam and make sure his brother stayed safe. That's not saying he didn't think Sam couldn't take care of himself—Sam was more capable than anyone he knew. Hell, you didn't escape across the country for a few years if you couldn't take care of yourself.

Sighing, Dean found himself wishing something would happen. He was so tired of sitting in here, just waiting for the next act to begin. He felt as if he was on display and Dean Winchester never did well under scrutiny.

As if in answer to his silent wish, there was a knock at the door. Dean glanced up as an officer stepped into the room, no expression on his face.

"You have a visitor."

Dean grinned. "And here I was thinking I was gonna be the loner freak in the class."

The officer ignored him as he waved someone in behind him. "Good luck," he said to the new arrival.

"Aw, come on…I'm not that bad," Dean protested, the smirk still on his face.

The officer ignored Dean. "If you have any problems with him, just let us know."

Robbie Mallette smiled as he entered the room and looked at Dean. "Don't worry, Officer. I don't think we're gonna have a problem at all."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for all of the continued support and comments everyone! I always love to see what you guys think about the crazy ideas in my head because I'm having fun sharing them with you.**

**I may do another update in a few days or I may be mean and make you guys wait an entire week. I guess it depends on what you guys say…(and I just know you're gonna want to wait a week until the next chapter, right?)**

**As always, I give my complete gratitude to Mizpah for the wonderful beta and the constant encouragement. Thanks a bunches, Mum!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean felt as if he'd been punched in the gut when Robbie sauntered into the room as if he didn't have a care in the world. The hunter wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off the psycho's face.

"You don't look like you're too thrilled to see me, Dean," Robbie commented as he made a slow circle around the seated hunter.

Dean followed Robbie with his eyes. "Let me apologize for that, Norman. I usually don't tend to warm up to people who try to kill my brother just so they can fulfill some sick fantasy of theirs."

Robbie came to a stop in front of Dean. "Oh, come on…don't tell me you're still upset about _that_. It was ages ago, Dean. Let bygones be bygones."

Dean refused to allow himself to be baited by the freak. "What are you doing here? The last I checked, you should have been locked up in a maximum security prison."

The ex-motel clerk smiled. "Funny, so should you or, at least that's my understanding from the friendly folks here."

"What are you doing here?" Dean repeated.

Robbie shrugged as he resumed his walking. "Just killin' some time." He came to a stop behind Dean and leaned down. "Oh, and the police here might be under the impression that I'm with the FBI and I'm here to transfer you."

"And why would they think that?"

Robbie reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a badge Dean was all too familiar with. "It might have something to do with this. Apparently, it looks very official."

Dean nodded towards the two-way mirror. "Don't you think you should be a little less giving with your information, Robbie? I'm sure we're being watched right now."

Robbie smiled as he moved to the mirror and gave a little wave. "No, we're not. I told them I wanted to be alone with the fugitive. They were only too happy to let me have my time with you. It seems you've become quite the pain in the ass in here."

Dean smirked. "Well, I do have a reputation to uphold."

"Nothing wrong with that," Robbie admitted. "That's one of the reasons I like you, Dean."

"Forgive me for not being flattered by that," Dean said. "So, what's the plan, Robbie? You're here to keep me busy so Gordon can get to Sam?"

"Something like that."

Dean smiled. "Whatever the two of you have up your sleeve, Sam's not gonna fall for it. He knows the two of you are after him. He's covering his ass."

"All it takes is one little mistake, Dean. Sam lets his guard down for one second and it could very well be the death of him," Robbie said, nonchalantly. "Gordon's a lot closer to him than the two of you realize."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, swallowing hard.

"I just had a nice little chat with Gordon. He's been watching Sam ever since you got arrested," Robbie explained. "It seems that little Sammy is starting to get nervous, almost as if he knows he's not alone."

Dean felt his blood boil at the mention of Robbie's words. He was pretty much telling Dean that Sam was nothing more than a sitting duck and it scared the crap out of Dean.

Robbie leaned forward, his hands on the table, so he could be eye-level with Dean. "I wonder if you'll be able to get to Sam in time…"

Before Dean could even reply, there was a knock on the door and the officer from before entered the room. "We've got the transfer papers ready for you, Agent Michaels."

"Thank you so much," Robbie said, a big smile plastered on his face. "You really have been such an incredible help."

"We're just glad we can help get another dirtbag off the streets," the officer said with a pointed glance at Dean. "As soon as you sign the papers, Agent, you can be on your way."

Dean felt slight panic as the officer turned to leave. This might be his only chance to get help to Sam before it was too late. He couldn't just let his brother be offered up to Gordon so easily; he wasn't going to accept that. He needed to let the officer know that Robbie was a fake. Maybe if he did that, he could bust out and get to Sam.

"Officer…"

The officer turned to look at Dean. "What is it, Winchester?"

"I just think you should know…" Dean's voice trailed off as he watched Robbie reach into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. It didn't take a genius to figure out whom the freak would be calling—he'd be siccing his guard dog on Sam.

"What?" the officer demanded.

Dean shook his head. "It's nothin'."

"Just let me know when you're ready," the officer said to Robbie before leaving them alone once again.

"Now, what exactly were you planning on telling the good officer, Dean?" Robbie asked sweetly.

"None of your damn business," Dean said with a scathing glare.

"I'm gonna tell you something now, Dean, and you better be sure you listen to me," Robbie said in a low voice. "You try anything funny and all I have to do is call Gordon—you don't want me to do that."

"Why's that?"

"I give the word, Gordon kills Sam right now without even touching him. A quick gunshot to the head," Robbie explained. "Of course, that would mean I rob Gordon of the fun he was planning on having with Sam…"

"What do you want?" Dean asked, seriously hating the fact that he was allowing himself to be bullied by Robbie.

"You listen to me and do exactly as I say or I give Gordon a call," Robbie answered. "It's as simple as that. If you manage to behave yourself, then everything will work out just fine."

"Not for Sam," Dean argued.

"Well, there is that," Robbie admitted. "Now, how about we hit the road, hmm?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The waiting game…

That was all it was and it was driving Sam insane. He felt like he was doing nothing more than sitting with his thumbs up his ass while Dean was locked up at the police station, waiting to be taken away to God knew where. Sam wanted to kill Gordon and Robbie for this. Everything had just gotten so screwed to hell and there was really nothing they could do about it.

And that right there pissed Sam off.

The Winchesters weren't accustomed to sitting still. It was always action with them; they fought for what was right and they fought for what they believed in. But this situation only made Sam feel helpless, like he had no say about what would happen. How had their lives gotten so messed up? Why did everyone in the world seem to be against them lately? Hadn't they done enough? Given enough?

Why did someone always have to come along and shit on all the good they'd done?

It wasn't fair, plain and simple.

And Sam couldn't stand it. But he also knew he couldn't sit here and throw himself a pity party. That was also against the Winchester Code—they never pitied themselves. They did what they did because they wanted to help. There was no time to whine about what wasn't right or fair to them. They took the blows and they moved on.

It still didn't mean Sam couldn't be a little pissed off about it.

A knock at the door tore Sam from his personal diatribe. _Who the hell could be knocking at the door? No one knows what room I'm in now…hell, not even Dean._

Reaching into his duffel, Sam pulled out his gun and slowly made his way to the sheer curtains that hung from the windows. Being careful to stay away from the window, Sam moved the edge of the fabric just an inch or so.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Gordon Walker was standing outside, a smile on his face. To the passerby, it would look like he was just there to pay Sam a friendly visit, but the young hunter knew better. He knew they wouldn't be having a nice little talk.

Sam didn't like the thought of hiding—he'd never done that before in his life and he really didn't want to start now. But he also didn't want to serve himself up to the unbalanced vampire hunter either. He'd be letting Dean down if he did something stupid like that.

_Just stay quiet and maybe he'll think he has the wrong room or no one's home. Maybe he'll just go away and you can figure out a way to get out of here._

Another knock rattled the door in its frame, followed by, "Come on, Sammy…I know you're in there."

Sam still remained quiet.

"You really don't want to cause a scene out here, do you Sam?" Gordon asked, his voice surprisingly reasonable. But then it turned cold. "Open the door or I'll open it for you."

_Sorry, Gordon—I was always taught not to open the door for homicidal maniacs…_

Sam quietly stepped away from the door, trying to see if he could find another exit. The only other window in the room was in the bathroom, so Sam stealthily made his way there. Opening the door as silently as he could, he was discouraged to see the window was small; there would be no way he could fit his well-built frame through it.

"Son of a bitch," he swore softly.

"Open the door, Sam!" Gordon said angrily, his voice rising slightly higher but not so much that it would catch the attention of others.

_Wouldn't want anyone to know you're here to kill me, right, Gordon?_

The knob to the door began to jiggle as Gordon tried to force it open. "I'd really hate for something to happen to that brother of yours, Sammy."

Sam froze at those words. "What are you talking about?"

"So you are in there—good. Dean's an easy target right now," Gordon goaded. "One phone call and I can have him killed within seconds. Do you honestly want your brother's blood on your hands?"

_He's bluffing,_ Sam told himself. _He's trying to say anything to get you to open the door and he went right for the jugular._ "Dean's in jail, which I'm sure is thanks to you. You can't touch him."

"I don't have to touch him at all, Sammy. I'm pretty sure you've figured out I'm not running this show alone," Gordon explained. "I have ways of getting to Dean and if you want to see them, then keep on hiding behind that door."

Sam swallowed nervously as he peeked through the curtains once again. Gordon was pulling a cell phone from his pocket and dialing a number.

"I just have a couple more numbers to press, Sam. You're running out of time."

There was no way Sam could risk Dean like that. Sure, he was pretty certain Dean would kill him personally if Sam opened the door for Gordon, but the young hunter didn't see he had any other option. If he was able to keep Gordon talking and distracted, then maybe Dean would have a chance to get free and get to him before it was too late.

Sam hoped as much, at least.

Taking a deep breath, Sam slowly opened the door, keeping his gun trained on Gordon. After all, he never said anything about Sam having to be unarmed.

Gordon smiled chillingly. "I figured that would get your attention."

Sam looked down to see Gordon had a gun clutched in his other hand and it was pointed directly at his chest. "Remember what I said about causing a scene, Sammy? Why don't you invite me in?"

"Why don't you go screw yourself instead?"

Gordon chuckled as he pushed the talk button and put the phone on speaker so Sam could listen.

"_Gordon?"_

Sam felt fear spike through him at the sound of Robbie Mallette's voice.

"Yeah, it's me," Gordon said, grinning at Sam as he entered the room and slammed the door shut. "Doesn't seem like Sammy here is too thrilled to hear your voice."

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "You told me if I opened the door, Dean would be okay."

"_Sam? Sammy, is that you?"_

Sam felt a mixture of relief and fear at the sound of his brother's voice. It meant that Robbie had him but at the same time, it meant Dean might have a better chance of getting away now that he wasn't in jail.

"Dean!" Sam yelled but he was stopped as Gordon backhanded him. Sam fell into the wall, his ears ringing at the impact of the blow. Somehow, he managed to keep his precious grip on the gun.

"I might have forgotten to tell you to follow all of my directions," Gordon said coldly.

"_You God damned son of a bitch!" _Dean's voice rang out. _"You touch him again and I swear to God, I will skin you alive!"_

"I really don't see where you're in the position to give me orders, Dean," Gordon growled. "If he gives you any problems, Robbie, shoot him. But make sure you don't kill him. I want him to watch when I put his little brother down."

"Wait! I'll do whatever you want me to do," Sam said quickly. "Just—just don't hurt Dean."

"_Sammy, don't you dare give in to that bastard!" _Dean yelled. _"Don't you do one thing—"_

Hanging up on Dean's words, the vampire hunter smiled at Sam. "I see it doesn't take much to make you listen, Sam. Put down your gun."

"No way in hell." Sam tightened his grip on the gun as he aimed it at Gordon's head.

Gordon sighed. "Are you really willing to see how many times Dean can survive being shot in the course of a day?" He pulled out his phone once again and began to dial.

"Okay! Wait!" Taking a deep breath, Sam reluctantly placed his gun on the floor in front of his feet.

"Kick it over to me," Gordon said, raising his own gun up to point it at Sam's head.

Sam glared at Gordon, but did as he was told. "Now what?"

"Lie facedown on the floor and put your hands on your head," Gordon instructed. "You try anything funny and Dean pays for it, you understand?"

Nodding, Sam slowly lowered himself to the floor, keeping an eye on Gordon the entire time. He watched as the crazed hunter traded his cell phone for a coil of rope and Sam bit back the grunt of pain as Gordon roughly forced his hands behind his back and tied them tightly.

"So, what now, Gordon?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

"Now, you stop talking and be a good little freak," Gordon said as he raised his gun hand.

Sam barely had time to register what was about to happen before Gordon brought the butt of the gun down on his head, knocking him out cold.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean had to laugh at the irony of the situation.

It was the only thing he could do in order to keep everything straight. Of all the cars for Robbie to be driving, he had to pick a late-model Chevrolet Impala. But that wasn't the best part of it. No, it also had to be black and if Dean wasn't mistaken, he was sure that was Boston blasting out of the speakers.

Talk about someone who couldn't form his own identity.

Sitting in the passenger seat with his hands cuffed in front of him, Dean stared moodily through the windshield.

"What's wrong, Dean? Don't you like my car?" Robbie asked, smiling toothily at Dean.

"I've seen better," Dean muttered.

"I got it for you. I thought you would get a real kick out of it," Robbie went on as if he didn't hear him. "Sure, it's nothin' like yours, but it's a start, right?"

"Are you gonna sit here and make me listen to you yappin' the entire time?" Dean griped. "Because if so, you can just put me in the trunk now."

Robbie laughed. "You know, I always liked your sense of humor, Dean. It reminds me of my brother."

"Good for me."

Robbie remained silent for a few moments and Dean thought he was finally going to get a reprieve from the little twit's voice. But his relief was short-lived when the young man opened his mouth to speak again.

"I know you're worried about Sam," Robbie said thoughtfully. "But you shouldn't be. Gordon's doing what needs to be done. He's doing the world a favor and one day, Dean, you'll understand that."

Dean shook his head. "It amazes me how logical you can sound about this. You're talking about killing my brother as if he's nothing more than a dog that needs to be put down. I'm sorry if I don't share your sentiment."

Robbie shrugged and didn't say anything.

"There's something I don't understand," Dean said.

"What's that?"

"How could you allow yourself to hook up with Gordon? I mean, were you really that desperate for someone?" Dean asked.

Robbie shook his head. "You just haven't taken the time to understand him like I do," he said softly. "Gordon was there for me when no one else was. He's the only one who's never judged me."

"Yeah, I do understand him. He's cold and he's ruthless and he doesn't let anyone stand in his way," Dean said. "Every time we've met up with him, he's tried to kill Sam. What do you think he's gonna do when he gets tired of you, Robbie? Do you honestly think he's gonna let you stick by him forever? He works alone and he'll cut you loose the first chance he gets."

"No, he won't."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just know," Robbie said, becoming slightly flustered. "You'll see, Dean. He's not the monster you make him out to be. That's Sam."

Dean was about to say more when Robbie's phone rang.

Plucking it out of his pocket, Robbie flipped it open excitedly and put it on speaker so Dean could listen in. "Gordon?"

"_Yeah, it's me," _Gordon answered. _"It doesn't seem like Sammy here is too thrilled to hear your voice."_

_Sam! _Dean thought frantically. _That bastard has Sam!_

"_What are you doing?" _He heard Sam ask. _"You told me if I opened the door, Dean would be okay."_

Dean felt his blood boil when he realized Gordon had used him to get to Sam. "Sam? Sammy, is that you?"

"_Dean!" _Sam's voice was cut off by the distinct sound of flesh against flesh and then a thud as if he'd fallen into a wall or some other hard surface.

"_I might have forgotten to tell you to follow all of my directions," _Gordon said.

Dean didn't miss the smile on Robbie's face as he listened to everything. _The little bastard is enjoying this. _"You God damned son of a bitch!" Dean yelled at Gordon. "You touch him again and I swear to God, I will skin you alive!"

"_I really don't see where you're in a position to give me orders, Dean. If he gives you any problems, Robbie, shoot him. But make sure you don't kill him. I want him to watch as I put his little brother down."_

Dean's eyes slid to Robbie as the disturbed man pulled out a gun from his pocket and placed it on his lap for Dean to see.

"_Wait! I'll do whatever you want me to do," _Sam said. _"Just—just don't hurt Dean."_

Dean's anger quickly moved to Sam as he realized what his stubborn ass of a brother was about to do. "Sammy, don't you dare give in to that bastard! Don't you do one thing—" Dean stopped as he heard an audible click, signaling that Gordon had hung up on him.

"Looks like he got tired of your yelling," Robbie commented idly. "Can't say that I really blame him. The two of you screaming for each other gets really irritating after a while."

Dean said nothing as he continued to look at the passing scenery. They were on a deserted road, headed to God knew where while Sam was being held by Gordon. Dean never before in his life felt like he was so far away from his brother, not even when Sam went off to Stanford. Dean needed to come up with a plan and fast.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked.

"About a mile up the road is a house Gordon and me found when we got into town," Robbie explained, obviously not worried about giving away too much information. "We're gonna meet him and Sam there for the big event."

_Not if I have anything to say about it, _Dean thought as a plan suddenly hit him. There was no way he'd be able to get away from Robbie—not without a little help anyway. It was risky, he knew, but if it allowed him to get away and get to Sam, then he was willing to take the risk.

Taking a deep breath, Dean jerked his body to the left as best as he could with the seatbelt holding him in place and grabbed with wheel with both hands, wrenching it to the right and towards a small thicket of trees.

Robbie realized what was happening a split second too late and there was nothing he could do as the car veered off the road and rammed into a tree with a sickening crash.


	10. Chapter 10

**So, apparently the general consensus was that you guys didn't want to wait a week for an update. All I can say is if you thought the last cliffie was bad, just wait until you get to the end of this chapter. I seem to remember my beta begging me for the next chapter immediately…I couldn't imagine why.**

**The next update will be Friday night, but even then I don't know if you'll want to wait that long. But hey—it could be worse. I could make you guys wait an entire week for the next update. That would only prove I have demon blood running through my veins (believe me, it's up for debate at times…).**

**Just so you know, there are only two chapters remaining after this one, so our little ride together will be over next week. That makes me sad…**

**Big thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and to everyone who has left me comment. I appreciate and love every one of you and you make writing so much more enjoyable for me, so thank you for that.**

**And as always, a big thanks is owed to my amazing beta, Mizpah.**

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Dean became conscious as a warm liquid dribbled down his forehead. Slowly opening his eyes, he sat up in his seat and brought his hands up to feel a cut at the base of his hairline, from where he'd hit his head on the dash when they'd crashed. Groaning softly, he knew he would soon have a killer of a headache, but it would be a small price to pay if he managed to get to Sam.

_Sam!_

Fully awake now, Dean darted a cautious glance over to Robbie to see that he was unconscious, his body slumped over the steering wheel. He could see blood on a good portion of the younger man's face and Dean wasn't even sure if Robbie had any more injuries.

But he wasn't about to stay there and find out.

Not when Sam's life was on the line.

Carefully maneuvering his body, Dean reached over and dug in Robbie's pockets for the key to the handcuffs. He didn't want to risk waking the man up, so he worked as slowly and cautiously as he could. Luck must have decided to pay him a visit, because Dean found his prize in the pocket closest to him.

Grasping the key tightly between his index finger and thumb, Dean inserted it into the lock and nearly whooped with joy when he felt it catch the tumbler. The cuff fell from his left wrist and Dean traded the key to his left hand to remove it from his right wrist.

_Hold on just a little longer, Sammy. I'm on my way, little brother._

Looking over, Dean tried to see if he could find the gun that Robbie had earlier but it had gotten lost during the collision. Figuring he really couldn't afford to waste any time looking for it, he moved over to open the door when he heard a low moan coming from Robbie.

"Oh, come on…don't do this now," Dean muttered.

Dean was tempted to leave Robbie where he sat; the freak deserved everything that was coming to him anyway. But his dreaded conscience got in his way—or more like Sam's irritating conscience got in his way.

Sam would never allow someone to suffer when there was every opportunity to get help, no matter how depraved a person may be. Dean knew there was no way Sam would forgive him if he did that and Dean also knew he would be no better than Robbie or Gordon if he did that. Spying Robbie's phone lying on the seat beside him, Dean picked it up and dialed 911.

"_911—what is your emergency?"_

"There's been a car accident," Dean said quickly. "Someone's been hurt."

"_Where are you, sir?"_

"I'm not really sure. Probably a few miles out of town, headed north," Dean explained. "There's nothing out here."

"_Just stay on the line, sir, and we'll get help to you as soon as possible," _the operator calmly said. _"How bad is the victim hurt?"_

"I don't know—just get someone out here." Dean threw down the phone, the operator's voice still calling out to him. Pushing out of the car, Dean didn't look back as he took off towards the home Robbie had told him about before the crash.

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"Come on, Sammy—rise and shine."

Sam jerked awake as Gordon Walker's hand slapped against his face, causing his throbbing head to ache even more. The young hunter tried to say something, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from doing much more than grunt. Instead, he turned hate-filled eyes towards his captor.

"Those eyes may work on everyone else, Sam, but not on me," Gordon said, chuckling as he played with a knife while watching Sam.

Sam ignored him as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in the middle of what appeared to be a living room, tied to a hardback chair, in somewhere that wasn't the motel room. It smelled dank and musty, almost as if it had been abandoned for years. The only light source came from a small lamp, trying its best to illuminate the large room, with it's faded wallpaper and old hardwood flooring.

"Sorry about the accommodations," Gordon commented as he watched Sam. "But then again, a freak like you doesn't deserve the Presidential Suite."

Sam grunted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sammy—would you like to say something?" Gordon teased, but he removed the gag anyway. "You can be as loud as you want. We're nice and secluded out here. It's the reason I picked this place when I got in town."

"Yeah, you're real original, Gordon," Sam said, dredging up a smirk while he tried to loosen the ropes around his wrists. "How many cloak and dagger movies did you have to watch to come up with this brilliant idea?"

"Keep being a smartass like your brother, Sam. Especially if it will help you cope," Gordon said as he circled Sam. "And if it will help you accept who you really are."

Sam titled his head. "And what exactly is that, Gordon? Oh, wait—let me guess. I'm evil, right?"

"That's right."

Sam rolled his eyes and he resumed his work on the ropes once Gordon walked back around to face him. "You know, I'm really getting tired of hearing the same spiel from you. How about you pick a new song for us to dance to?"

"Why pick a new one when this one has a really good beat to get you off your feet? You can try to deny it all you want, Sam." Gordon shrugged. "I guess it helps you sleep at night, doesn't it? It's like I told your brother, Sam—you're nothing but a freak, working on Hell's side. I messed up before. I overestimated you back in Indiana—I expected you to put me down like a dog, not let me live. But still—you deserve to be put down like that Carey kid."

Sam felt blood on his wrists as his skin became raw from his struggles. But he wasn't about to give up now. He just needed to push past the pain and keep on it. "Scott Carey was a kid—you never gave him a chance, Gordon."

"No, he wasn't human— he was a murderous freak."

Sam smirked. "Sounds like someone else in this room."

Gordon smiled cruelly as he walked towards Sam. The young hunter didn't have time to react before Gordon grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Sam's head back, pressing the blade of the knife against Sam's exposed throat.

"I stopped him before he could become was he was truly meant to be," Gordon said softly as he pressed the blade in deeper. "Now, unfortunately, I didn't get to stop you before you and your dumbass brother decided to let out a horde of demons from Hell. But at least I can remedy the situation before they choose to anoint you as their new leader."

Sam swallowed hard, feeling blood ooze down his neck. "Then kill me, Gordon. Nothing's stopping you now."

Gordon chuckled deeply as he released Sam and stepped back. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Sammy? But I don't wanna make it fast for you." He shook his head. "No, I want Dean to watch as the light slowly leaves your eyes. I want your brother to see what happens when he aligns himself with the enemy."

Sam felt a surge of hope when the ropes began to slacken around his wrists. _Just a little more and you'll be home-free, Sam. _"You'll have to excuse me if I decide to keep the vote of confidence in your abilities to myself, Gordon, considering you didn't succeed the last time." Sam canted his head and smiled smugly. "But hey, at least you got a few pointers about reaching for the soap, huh?"

Gordon snarled as he launched himself at Sam once again. Cocking back his fist, he landed a stiff uppercut against Sam's jaw, almost knocking the young hunter to the floor. Sam could feel blood seeping out from his busted lip but he took the blow like it was nothing, which only seemed to anger Gordon even further. Sam glared at him as if challenging the angry man, and just as Gordon was about to land another hit, he stopped, almost as if he realized what Sam was trying to do.

"No," Gordon panted, the smile once again forming on his lips. "I have a better way of getting to you, Sammy." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

Sam swallowed nervously as he watched Gordon dial a number. He knew who would answer on the other end and he knew this time, there would be nothing he could say to stop Robbie from hurting Dean. He had to get out of here while Gordon was distracted; it was the only way he would be able to save Dean and himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gordon was having a hard time not letting Sam get to him, but damn, if the younger Winchester couldn't be as annoying as his older brother. He was letting Sam's words get to him, allowing the bastard to provoke him.

Gordon wasn't stupid—he knew Sam was trying to get him to make a mistake so he could get away. Well, Gordon Walker wasn't born yesterday—he wasn't a rookie who was about to mess up again. He'd missed his chance at Sam before and he was not about to do it another time. Sam Winchester had to die—that was all there was to it.

Gordon vowed he would not go to his grave until it happened.

He relished the fear he saw on Sam's face as he pulled out his cell phone. If there was one way to get the kid's attention it was by threatening his older brother—his big protector. But Gordon was tired of threatening Sam; it was time for action and time for Sam to suffer some consequences.

Dialing Robbie, he waited as the phone rang three times before it was finally answered.

"Robbie? What took you so long to answer the damn phone?"

"_I'm sorry—who is this?"_ an unfamiliar voice asked.

Gordon frowned. "Who is _this_?"

"_I'm a paramedic—are you a friend or family member of the victim?"_

"That depends—who's the victim?"

"_A young man, kind of on the scrawny side. Light brown hair…he said his name was Robbie Mallette."_

"I'm his brother," Gordon lied. "What happened to him?"

"_Your brother is going to be okay. He just managed to hit his head when his car ran off the road and hit a tree," _the paramedic explained.

Gordon turned away when he saw Sam paying close attention to the conversation. "Was there anyone else in the car with him?"

"_No, he was alone. Why? Was he supposed to have a passenger?"_

"He was supposed to be picking up a friend," Gordon said, keeping his voice low.

"_Like I said—we didn't find anyone else here."_

"But you said he was gonna be okay, right?"

"_Yes, he's fine. He's just got a nasty bump on the head but there's no sign of a concussion," _the paramedic said reassuringly. _"We advised him to go to the hospital just in case, but he's refused. My partner is patching him up right now and he'll be good as new in no time."_

"All right…thank you." Gordon closed his eyes as he hung up. He knew this was no accident—Dean Winchester caused this. Well, two could play at that game…it was time for little Sammy to suffer.

Gripping his knife tightly, Gordon turned around and approached Sam. He could see the young man swallow nervously as his eyes widened in fear. _Good…let him fear. He deserves to live in fear for what he is._

"It seems that your brother changed the game up a little bit, Sammy," Gordon said softly. "But no worry—it still won't stop me from what I'm meant to do."

Sam smirked. "Wanna bet?"

Before Gordon could fully comprehend what was happening, Sam launched himself out of the chair and charged him, tackling him to the floor. Gordon fought to bring his knife up, but Sam held a firm grip on Gordon's wrist, desperate to keep the blade away from him. Gordon brought his other hand up and punched the younger Winchester in the jaw, pitching Sam sideways to sprawl across the floor.

Gordon quickly jumped to his feet, intending to rush Sam while he was down but once again Sam caught him by surprise and grabbed his ankle, jerking Gordon to the ground. The knife fell from Gordon's grasp and Sam kicked it away before he could get to it again.

Gordon looked up just in time to see Sam's fist coming at his face and then nothing as darkness clouded his vision.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam rose to his full height, panting, as he looked down at the unconscious Gordon. He knew the maniacal hunter wouldn't be down for long from past experience so it was best to get out of there while he could. Bringing a hand up to his face, Sam wiped away the blood, and with one last glare at Gordon he bolted out of there.

Coming out of the front door, Sam spotted the Impala. Racing to it, he was frustrated to find that the doors were locked. _Gordon must have the keys on him, _Sam thought bitterly. He wasn't even about to entertain the idea of going back in for them. The only other spare key they had was with Dean and even if Sam was able to bust a window open—which he wouldn't because he so didn't want to face the wrath of Dean—he still wouldn't be able to get into the trunk where all the weapons were.

_At least now I know how I got here. And, hey, there's a bright side to all of this—if Dean wasn't gonna kill Gordon before, he certainly will after he finds out the psycho drove his car._

Taking a deep breath, Sam tried to figure out what his next move would be. He couldn't just stay out in the open and wait for Gordon to come after him. He needed to hide and come up with something better, preferably some kind of weapon to use against him because Gordon sure as hell was going to be pissed when he woke up from his little impromptu nap.

Spotting the thicket of woods that lined the left side of the property, Sam dashed towards it, thinking the forest would at least provide him with some semblance of cover until he come up with a definitive plan. As much as he hated to admit it, running was going to be his best option for now.

As he ran, he went over Gordon's phone call in his head. He knew the vampire hunter had called Robbie—it was probably the only number Gordon had in his phone. But from the one-sided conversation Sam heard, it was obvious something had happened and Robbie was hurt. And with how pissed Gordon seemed as he spoke and after he'd hung up, Sam couldn't help but think his big brother was behind it.

While that made Sam smile, it also made him furious—he would kill Dean for doing something so stupid. Sure, he figured his brother didn't have too many options in order to get away from the lunatic, but did he have to wreck the car and risk his own life to do it?

"Typical friggin' Dean…" Sam muttered, mostly to hear his own voice in the eerie silence. Dean was on this stupid trip about being invincible since he only had a year left to live and it was aggravating Sam to no end. Dean didn't seem to realize just because he had the damn contract, it didn't mean his due date couldn't come any earlier.

"SAM!"

Sam almost lost his footing at the sound of Gordon's angry voice. _God, he really does have a hard head, doesn't he?_

"Did you really think you could keep me down, you little hell spawn?" Gordon's voice echoed all around him so he couldn't really be sure where the dark hunter was. "You can't hide for long, Sammy! Why don't you make it easier on yourself?"

_Sorry, I was never one to do things the easy way_, Sam thought ruefully as he kept running, darting back and forth between the trees. He hazarded a look behind him for just a second and tripped, falling to the ground and landing hard.

_Stupid root,_ he thought darkly as he painfully tried to lift himself up from the ground. Hearing a twig snap behind him, Sam looked up and his heart found its way up to his throat.

Robbie Mallette was standing behind him, a pleased smile plastered on his face as he pointed a gun at Sam's head. "Well, hey there, Sammy. You don't look too happy to see me."

Swallowing hard, Sam turned around on his back and scooted away before rising unsteadily to his feet. "You're supposed to be hurt."

Robbie pointed at the gauze pad on his forehead. "I am, thanks to that brother of yours. But it's like they say—'you can't keep a good man down.' Besides, nothing was gonna stop me from watching you die, Sam."

Before Sam could reply, another set of rapid footsteps rapidly approached them and Sam glanced behind Robbie to see Gordon join the party. _I am so damned screwed right now._

"I told you I wasn't gonna let you get away again, Sam," Gordon said coldly as he stood next to Robbie. Nodding to the young man beside him, he said, "Do it."

Sam had no warning at all before Robbie fired the gun.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**So, you do remember that thing about demon blood in my veins, right? Yeah, I hate myself right now, too.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I usually wait until night to post, but I decided to be nice and put you out of your misery, considering where I left you on Chapter Ten. It could be the headache that's pounding in my head that's making me hold off on my evil ways or it could be the fact that I'm going to go see the new X-Files movie this weekend. (Insert squee here…)**

**I hope you guys enjoy it…no warning on this one. There's only one more chapter to go after this and I'll have it up in a few days! Thanks again for sticking with me and letting me know what you think!**

**A big thank you to my awesome beta, Mizpah! You're the best, Mum!**

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Dean had never been so happy to see an old, dilapidated house in his life. And what made it even better? He spotted the Impala sitting in the front yard, the sunlight glinting off her black body.

He didn't even want to think how it got there in the first place. Part of him wanted to believe that Sam had driven it there, but he knew that was most likely not the case. Which could only mean one thing—Gordon had put his filthy ass in his car and Dean was going to make sure that ass was good and kicked.

The agile hunter wasn't sure what to expect as he made his way up the pot-holed driveway, so he decided to err on the side of caution. Gordon Walker was a master of surprise and Dean wouldn't be shocked if he had traps laid out for him. But then again, Gordon didn't expect Dean to come waltzing right up to the property, either. He was still under the impression that he'd be coming up with Robbie and Dean was sure Gordon wouldn't want to risk Robbie right now.

Feeling better with that thought, Dean still took cautious steps towards the Impala. Reaching for the door, he found it locked. Remembering the spare key he had in his wallet, Dean quickly dug it out and ran to the trunk. He wasn't sure what awaited him, but he was going to grab any weapon that could cause the most damage. If Gordon had even put a tiny scratch on Sam, Dean was going to make him hurt—slowly and painfully.

Grabbing one of the hunting knives he kept back there, Dean sheathed it, clipping the leather holster onto his belt. Closing the trunk, Dean moved to the front of the Impala. After unlocking the door, he reached over the seat for the glove compartment and was relieved to find his beloved Desert Eagle there. Checking the clip and satisfied that it was full, he slammed the tiny compartment shut.

Moving out of the car, Dean straightened up, trying to figure out what his next course of action would be. He was pretty sure Sam was being held in the house and he couldn't exactly go in there with guns blazing. If Dean did that, he knew Sam would be dead before he even took two steps towards his brother.

No, he would have to find an alternate way in and maintain patience. It was going to be the only way to ensure he and Sam would get out of there in one piece. He couldn't fly off the handle like he usually did—not when Sam's life was at stake. The best bet would be to see if he could find out exactly where Sam was and find a way in that wouldn't get the both of them killed within a matter of seconds.

Satisfied with that game plan, Dean was making his way to one of the front windows when a gunshot rang through the air. It sounded too far away to have come from inside the house and Dean's eyes immediately went to the forest lining the left side of the property.

"Sam…"

The house completely forgotten, Dean tore for the woods, praying that his little brother was okay, because he refused to believe Sam was dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam cried out as white-hot, fiery pain tearing through his right shoulder as the bullet ripped through flesh. Falling to the ground from the impact, he tried to hold back the tears as he clutched his shoulder, attempting to stem the flow of blood from the wound. Looking up through blurred vision, he saw Robbie and Gordon leering down at him.

"What the hell was that for?" Sam demanded through gritted teeth.

Robbie shrugged nonchalantly. "I never got to take my shot at you before," he admitted. "Besides, you attacked Gordon and that goes against the rules."

Sam snorted. "Then do you care to share the rules with me? Or are you just making them up as you go along?"

"We're making them up as the situation warrants it," Robbie said.

"That was just a friendly little reminder of what would happen if you tried to get away again, Sammy," Gordon said darkly.

"And you just couldn't tell me that," Sam grunted as another wave of pain washed over him.

Gordon gave a casual shrug of his shoulder. "It's much more effective if you show by example. I've always found you learn more that way."

"How about I show you a few examples then?" Sam muttered. Knowing he couldn't stay on the ground the entire time, Sam tried scooting away a few feet. The catch of the gun caught his attention again, causing him to still.

"You're not thinking of trying to get away again, are you, Sam?" Robbie asked, a giddy smile on his face. "Because my aim has gotten much better and next time, I'll take out an ankle."

Gordon smiled like a proud parent. "We can keep at this all day long, Sammy. Robbie's been looking to hone his shooting skills and I have to say, you beat a paper target any day of the week."

"So, is this what you're gonna do, Gordon?" Sam asked. "You keep on and on about how you're gonna be the one to put me down, and you're letting Robbie do your dirty work? That doesn't sound like you."

"What can I say, Sam? I'm a giver." Gordon shook his head. "I told you before that this was gonna be nice and slow. Robbie deserves to have a little bit of fun for what you and Dean did to him." He leaned down next to the fallen hunter. "But I can promise you one thing—when the kill shot finally does come, it will be me who puts you down like the filthy mutt you are."

Sam looked at the two killers in disgust. "So, is this what you did with the Jennings family? Put them down like filthy dogs, too?"

Gordon's smile became chilling as he stood up. "We had to have a way to draw the two of you in and you are so transparent when it comes to helping people in need. It was a small sacrifice to make—a means to an end."

"A small sacrifice?" Sam shook his head. "You killed a little boy and his mother. You took away the other boy's family and you call that a small sacrifice? Why that family, huh? What did they do to deserve to die like that?"

"You'll have to ask Robbie about that," Gordon said, nodding at his little protégé. "He's the one who picked them."

"It was because of you, Sam."

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"When I saw Micah, I knew it had to be them," Robbie replied with an innocent shrug. "He looked just like you and it was like I'd been given a sign. Who am I to ignore a message from a higher power?"

Sam snorted. "You following the advice of a higher power? That's real comical coming from you—the two of you deserve to rot in Hell for what you've done."

"What a coincidence—so do you," Gordon said, chuckling deeply. "Maybe we'll have to keep each other company down there. And from what I hear, your brother won't be too far away from joining us. Imagine him making a stupid ass deal to save your pathetic life. I thought Dean has some brains in that thick skull of his, but I guess I was wrong."

"Don't talk about my brother like that," Sam growled, seething in anger. "He did what he did out of loyalty and family."

Gordon shook his head. "No. He did it because he's still under the impression that you're his innocent little baby brother. He hasn't realized your true colors yet because you've managed to manipulate him, just like everyone else."

"You can really come up with some shit in that head of yours, Gordon," Sam said, forcing a smirk. "If you were anyone else, I might be a little impressed."

Gordon continued as if he didn't hear him. "I'm gonna do your brother a favor, Sammy. I'm trying to save him from the hurt you'll eventually cause him when you go against your race."

"I don't think Dean will see it that way."

"Not at first, no," Gordon admitted. "But he'll get there."

"So, do it then," Sam said defiantly. "You keep saying you're wanting to save Dean from hurting—what do you think this is gonna do to him if he has to watch you kill me?"

"Nice try, Sammy, but like I told you before, it's not gonna work on me." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Gordon pulled out the same coil of rope that had held Sam earlier. "Now, why don't you be a good little hell spawn and turn on your stomach? I'm pretty sure Dean will be riding to the rescue any second now."

Sam licked his lips nervously as he hesitated. If he did that, he knew there was no way he was going to get out of it this time. Gordon wouldn't be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.

Gordon's foot lashed out, catching Sam on the side, forcing him to turn over. Pain shot through his midsection and he didn't have time to catch his breath before his arms were wrenched behind him once again. Sam pushed back tears of pain and frustration as more stress was placed on his injured shoulder, Gordon seeming intent on causing as much agony as he possibly could.

"SAMMY!"

_Oh, God…please tell me I'm not imagining that. Please tell me that was Dean I heard, _Sam silently pleaded. He wasn't naïve enough to believe he wasn't in a losing situation if Dean didn't show up soon. Sam just didn't know if he had the energy to continue fighting against the demented killers.

"Looks like big brother is riding to the rescue," Gordon muttered in Sam's ear.

"What should we do?" Robbie asked as he glanced behind him.

"Go hide," Gordon ordered the young man as he jerked Sam to his feet. "Sammy and I are gonna throw Dean a little welcome party."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Stupid freakin' forest for being so freakin' big. Sammy couldn't make it easy for me and be near the front of the woods. No, he just had to go right into the thick of it._

The problem was Dean didn't know if he was running in circles or not since every tree looked the same. He could be running around like a chicken with its head cut off while Sam could be lying somewhere bleeding to death. It had been ten agonizing minutes since he'd heard the gunshot and he really had no idea where he was going.

It was damned frustrating and it made Dean want to scream. Or burn down the forest. But then again, that wouldn't be too helpful serving only to piss Dean off further.

So Dean kept running, hoping he was going in the right direction.

Coming to a small clearing, the hunter spotted a dark stain on the ground and stopped in his tracks. It was a stain he knew didn't belong on the forest floor and one he recognized instantly.

_Blood._

Squatting down, Dean brought a shaky hand to the dark blot, hoping against hope that it wasn't going to be fresh. If it was fresh, it meant someone was shot, with his kid brother being the most likely candidate. But as fate would have it, Dean's finger came back, stained with the crimson liquid.

_Sam…_

Dean stiffened at the sound of a twig snapping behind him. Tightening his grip on his .45, he spun around only to be met by a nightmarish sight.

Gordon had Sam held in a death grip in front of him, a large bowie pressed against Sam's throat. Dean felt fury rage through him as he took in his brother's haggard appearance, not failing to notice the blood that covered the right side of his body from a gunshot wound to Sam's shoulder. He could tell Sam was trying his best to keep up a steady front, but with his arms wrenched behind him and the razor sharp blade at his throat, Dean knew his sibling's defenses were crumbling fast.

"Gordon. Where's your little lap dog?" Dean's voice was a feral snarl.

Gordon smiled. "He's around. Good to see you could finally join us, Dean. I was starting to get worried that you stood us up."

"I've never been one to skip out on a good party," Dean quipped, his aim on Gordon never wavering.

Gordon tightened his grip on Sam causing the younger Winchester to hiss in pain. "Why don't you go ahead and put down that gun?"

"Sorry, I can't do that," Dean said with a shrug. "That would make me feel a little naked and it's a tad chilly out here."

Gordon let out a throaty chuckle. "That's funny, Dean, but maybe I didn't make myself clear." He drove his thumb into Sam's shoulder, causing it to bleed even more and the young hunter to yell out in pain. "Drop. It."

"All right!" Dean yelled, furious at his brother's distress, but knowing if he didn't listen to Gordon, Sam would be dead. "Just stop hurting him!"

Gordon shook his head as he pressed the knife in deeper to Sam's neck. "I haven't even begun what I have planned for our little demon boy here."

"I said I'd drop it so just chill out!" Dean yelled. "Let's talk about this, Gordon!"

"There's nothing to talk about, Dean," Gordon said coldly. "I'm doing what's right, what needs to be done for the greater good of the world. Now, drop it and no games or I'll drop Sam before you have time to even bat an eyelash."

Dean locked eyes with his brother, silently apologizing for how things managed to get so messed up in such a short time. There was understanding in Sam's hazel orbs and it made Dean's heart ache. Holding the gun out and slowly lowering to the ground, Dean was about to place it down when a snapping twig behind him made his senses go on the alert.

Seeing Sam's eyes narrow in warning, Dean whirled around just in time to see Robbie swinging a tree branch at his head. Dean ducked and the branch whistled through the air above him just where his head had been only a fraction of a second earlier. Before Robbie had time to bring the branch around for a second try, Dean kicked it out of his grip and grabbed the startled young man, aiming the gun at his head.

Gordon let out another chuckle. "Nice move, Dean. But then, I didn't expect anything less out of you."

"Well, I hate to disappoint," Dean said, shoving the barrel of the Colt under Robbie's jaw.

"So, it looks like we have ourselves a nice little Mexican standoff, Dean," Gordon commented with a cruel smile.

"It looks like."

"And what exactly do you suggest we do about that?"

"Well, I'm thinking you let Sam go or I kill your little mini-me, here," Dean said, his gaze locked onto Gordon's.

"I don't think so, Dean. You're bluffing and we both know it," Gordon said. "You're not a killer. But me…I've already killed before and nothin's stopping me from doing it again." As if to emphasize his point, Gordon dug the tip of the knife into the base of Sam's jawbone, eliciting another groan out of the younger Winchester.

The rage that had been building in Dean threatened to spill over when he saw the trail of blood running down Sam's neck. He looked hard at his sibling, seeking his brother's eyes, needing to know Sam trusted him to do what needed to be done. Sam gave an almost imperceptible nod that told Dean to do whatever it took to get them out of this.

Dean smiled coldly. "It seems you don't know me as well as you think, Gordy." Dean cocked his gun, moving his aim to Robbie's head. "My days in this world are numbered and I can't be bothered with little things like morality."

Gordon shrugged. "Do it, then."

"What?" Robbie's voice was almost a squeak. "You can't let him kill me, Gordon!"

"Relax, Robbie," Gordon said in a somewhat soothing voice. "Dean's not gonna do a damn thing to you. It goes against everything he stands for, no matter how soon he may be knocking on Hell's door."

"Well, you might be right about that." Dean raised the gun and brought the butt down on Robbie's head, knocking the mousy young man out cold. Pushing him to the ground, he added as he brought his weapon up to aim at Gordon again, "You might not want to take any chances with Norman here, considering it's his second little bump on the head within the past hour or so."

Again Gordon shrugged. "If he dies, he dies. I was starting to get tired of his constant whining and clinginess anyway."

"You really are a piece of work you know that, Gordon?"

"I really don't give a shit what you think about me, Dean." He took a step back, forcing Sam to stumble, causing the blade of the knife to go in deeper. "I've got my big prize here with Sammy. As soon as I put him down, everything's gonna be great."

Dean shook his head. "You're not gonna get that chance, Gordon."

"And how exactly is it you plan on stopping me, Dean?"

"Oh, I'll stop you." Dean said, his voice dripping venom. "You better believe that."

"Just shoot him, Dean," Sam bit out breathlessly.

"Yes, Dean—shoot me," Gordon mocked. "Shoot me and pray you don't hit little Sammy here."

_Damn it, Gordon's right. I take a shot now and there's no way I'll miss Sammy. _"I don't have a clean shot, Sam."

Gordon gripped Sam tighter to his body. "You hear that, Sam? He doesn't have a clear shot and he doesn't trust himself enough to take it without hitting you. That's very heroic of him, don't you think?"

"Kiss my ass," Sam muttered.

"Nice sentiment, Sam," Gordon said. "But I'm tired of screwing around. It's time to finally put an end to everything, once and for all. Say goodnight, Sammy." Moving his grip so he could jerk Sam's head back, Gordon prepared to slit the young hunter's throat.

"Goodnight, Gordon," Sam retorted, raising his boot up and stomping on Gordon's foot before the dark hunter could make the fatal slash. Caught by surprise, Gordon released his hold on Sam and the young man ducked as a gunshot echoed through the night.

Dean looked up from the barrel of the smoking gun as the shot hit Gordon square in the chest, a shocked expression on the older man's face. Stumbling back a few faces, Gordon looked down at the blood pouring from the mortal wound before falling onto his knees and finally face-planting to the ground where he lay unmoving.

Sam's pain filled gasp tore Dean away from the morbid scene and he rushed over to his injured brother. "Sam? Sammy, you okay?" He tilted Sam's face side to side to inspect the deep bruising and various cuts.

Sam nodded weakly. "I'm good, Dean."

"Liar," Dean said, but there was no anger in the one word.

"Is Gordon—"

"Yeah, Sammy. He's toast."

"Good." Sam was about to say more when a sudden movement from behind Dean caught his attention. "Dean! Behind you!"

"You son of a bitch!" Robbie screamed as he picked up Gordon's discarded knife and charged the brothers. "What the hell did you do?"

Dean brought his gun up and fired two shots, both hitting Robbie in the chest. The knife fell from the young man's grip and he collapsed beside Gordon, dead before he hit the ground. Standing up, the older Winchester unsheathed his own Bowie and cut through Sam's bonds.

Sam closed his eyes tightly and groaned pitifully as agony once again tore through his injured shoulder. Helping his brother to sit up, Dean gingerly pulled away Sam's shirt to inspect the wound.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

"It's a clean shot," Dean admitted softly. "We're gonna have to get you to the hospital."

"Figures," Sam muttered dully. He nodded towards the downed killers. "What do we do about them?"

Dean shrugged. "Let nature take its course?" he asked hopefully.

"Dean…"

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed as he helped Sam rise shakily to his feet. "We'll make an anonymous call to the police, tell them we stumbled onto two bodies in the woods. Let them handle the clean-up."

Cradling his injured arm, Sam leaned heavily against Dean as his brother steered him out of the forest. "I almost thought we weren't gonna make it out of this one, Dean," he murmured softly.

Dean quirked a brow. "Dude, you're doubting my abilities now? I've gotta say, that hurts a little, Sammy."

Sam chuckled softly then regretted it as his bruised ribs protested the jostle. "I've never doubted you a day in my life, Dean."


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, here it is, guys…the final chapter. I have to say I'm really sad this is coming to an end but I feel good at the same time because it means another journey we've been on together. Arguably, a terrifying, edge of your seat kind of journey, but an exciting one nonetheless. **

**I want to thank each and every one of you who have taken the time to read and let me know what you think. You were the ones who kept me on track this entire time and I thank you for sticking around with me even when I wasn't doing my best at updating as often as I would have liked.**

**I have to give my deepest thanks and round of applause to my amazing beta, Mizpah. She really was my guiding force and she kept me focused even when I wasn't sure I was doing right by this story. She's my coach in the corner, always giving me words of encouragement and a sounding board when my rambling goes off the deep end. You truly are a wonderful person, Mum, and someone I am so proud to call a dear friend.**

**Please, please let me know what you think about this story as a whole. I'm not sure when my next story will be because I am currently finishing up the Virtual Season but I do know for those of you who are also reading Livin' on the Edge, my co-author, Tree66, and I will be updating that one as soon as we can get to it.**

**Thanks again, everyone!**

**Stephanie**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam Winchester was exhausted and he hurt all over. The young hunter honestly didn't know how it was he was getting around when, with every single movement, pain blossomed up and down his fatigued body.

The brothers had only returned to the motel room a couple of hours ago, having spent the last day and a half at the hospital where Dean had craftily dodged questions pertaining to Sam's gunshot wound. Sam couldn't be sure since he'd been pretty much out of it at the time, but he thought he'd heard Dean say something about a carjacking gone wrong. Which was pretty tame, considering his brother could come up with some tales if given the chance.

With one shot shoulder, a set of bruised ribs, and not to mention all the other bruising and cuts peppering his lean body, Sam figured he could have doubled as one of Evander Holifield's boxing opponents—the losing opponent. The doctors had wanted Sam to stay around for a little bit longer, but after some wheeling and dealing and promises that he would return if a problem arose, they'd grudgingly let Dean take him out of there.

Which was good, considering Dean was particularly wanted after the bodies of Gordon Walker and Robbie Mallette were found. Somehow, luck had been on their sides, since no one seemed to notice Dean's picture plastered everywhere, from the television to the newspapers. Maybe they just pretended not to notice him or maybe, just maybe, someone was looking out for the brothers for once.

Sam thought it was a little too late, considering how close they'd come to dying, but he would take it. He would take any small miracle at this point.

"Hey, you feeling okay over there?" Dean asked as he stopped packing his duffel to look over at Sam.

Sam grinned. "I'm good." He tilted his head towards his wounded shoulder and arm that was now resting in a sling. "Just moving a little slower than usual, thanks to this."

"If you need help, Sammy, just ask," Dean said. "You get a free pass on acting like a girl—but just for today."

Sam chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind for later—thanks."

A small grin flitted across Dean's face. "Seriously, dude—are you okay?"

The younger Winchester let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I think I am. Everything feels over now, you know? Like I can finally breathe for the first time in a few days."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He rubbed the back of his neck as he slowly sank down onto his bed. "I never meant for it to get that far, Sammy."

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

"With Gordon and Robbie…I should have gotten there sooner," Dean admitted softly.

"Dude, don't tell me you're seriously gonna shoulder the blame for this one," Sam said as he moved to sit across from Dean.

Dean went on as if he didn't hear him. "It's just when I heard that gunshot…I freaked. I mean, hell, Sam—I just got you back again and I thought I was losing you all over again. I thought for sure Hell was trying to have the final laugh on me, you know? That what I'd done for you was gonna be all for nothing."

Sam felt a lump rise in his throat and somehow he managed to push it down. "Dean…"

"And when I saw you with Gordon—I could feel nothing but this burning rage. I knew what I was gonna do even before I did it," Dean admitted. "No matter what happened, Gordon was dead No way was he walking out of there. I wasn't gonna give him another chance at you. I just knew it was the one thing I was gonna do before my bill came due."

"You're not doubting what you did, are you, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "No. He deserved to die. Hell, they both deserved to die."

"Then what is all this about?"

Dean looked over at his brother and gave a little shrug. "I still think they got off a little too easy. I mean, what they did to you, to Adam's family and who knows how many others, they deserve to rot for that. I can't help but think they got a martyr's death."

"That's not true, Dean," Sam said softly. "Sure, they may not be spending the rest of their lives in prison like they should be, but at least now they can't hurt anyone else. We're gonna be giving Adam some kind of closure and believe me, that will mean a lot to him."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it's the same way I felt when we killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon. I finally felt like I had closure from Jess's death…Mom's death. And I know you felt the same way, too."

"Yeah…"

"We may not be able to bring Adam's mother and brother back to him, but we can give him a life free from fear of Gordon and Robbie," Sam went on. "It's not like we ever set out to kill them, Dean. I know what I said before about wanting them dead, but if there was another way around it, I know you would have found it." He smiled gently. "You know, Gordon actually said something that was true."

"What's that?"

"He said you weren't a killer, Dean." Sam knew it was hard for his brother to hear sentimental things, especially when it concerned Dean, but Sam thought he should hear it every once and a while. Dean needed to believe everything he did for everyone wasn't in vain and it was appreciated.

Sam slowly got to his feet and moved back over to his duffel. "Now, I say we get out of here and put Oneida behind us."

Dean smiled. "I think that's the best idea I've heard in a few days." He stood up and reached for Sam's bag before grabbing his own and the weapons duffel. "You think you can carry your laptop bag?"

"Dean, I can carry my duffel," Sam protested. "I do have another arm that's completely functional."

"Dude, this is the closest thing to a chick flick moment you're gonna get out of me," Dean said as he headed towards the door. "Take it while you can."

Sam grinned. "Yeah…okay."

"Close the door on your way out."

Sam did as he was instructed and followed Dean to the Impala, where his brother was loading up the bags into the trunk.

"So, you ready to get out of here?" Sam asked as Dean shut the trunk.

"Not quite," Dean admitted. "There's somewhere I wanna go first."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pulling up to Adam's grandparents' house, Dean shut off the engine and sat there staring at the front door. He wanted to do as Sam suggested, put Oneida and everything associated with it behind him, but he felt he couldn't do that to Adam. Especially after his talk with Sam.

Dean needed the teen to feel some sense of closure, even if it was just a little, because he knew if the roles were reversed, he'd want the same thing. Hell, he'd wanted it after his mother and father had died and look at how long it took for him to finally get it. There was no reason for Adam to have to go as long without it. Not if Dean could provide it for him.

"You're doing the right thing, Dean," Sam said softly from the passenger seat.

"Yeah." Dean pushed out of the car and walked up the path towards the front door. He heard his brother following him and waited until Sam joined him before ringing the doorbell.

"Detectives," Jonah Jennings' tone was slightly surprised as he opened the door to the Winchesters. "We thought you'd forgotten about us."

"No sir," Dean answered. "Is it all right if we come in? There's something we'd like to discuss with you."

Jonah stepped back, opening the door for them. "Please, come in."

The brothers followed the elder man to the living room and were taking a seat on the sofa, just as Alice walked in.

"Jonah, who was at the—" She stopped as she noticed the young hunters sitting on the striped sofa. "Detectives! Is something wrong?"

"We wanted to come by to give you an update on your daughter and grandson's case," Dean explained.

"Did something else happen?"

"No, ma'am," Sam answered softly. "Actually, we brought it to a close."

Alice brought a hand to her mouth as she looked at Sam, noticing his shoulder. "Oh, my goodness, Detective! Are you okay? What happened?"

"Occupational hazard," Sam said with a faint smile. "But it's fine," he assured her quickly.

"Detectives, you said you had some news for us," Jonah prompted, getting the conversation back on track. "What is it?"

Dean looked around the room. "Is Adam around?"

"He's upstairs in his room," Alice answered. "Would you like for me to call him down?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Dean said. "Is it all right if I go up and talk to him alone?"

Alice traded an uneasy glance with her husband, but Jonah gave her a slight nod, indicating it would be okay. "Straight up the stairs—first door on your right," the woman said.

"Thank you," Dean said as he rose. "My partner can fill you in on everything."

Sam nodded at his brother before focusing on the two anxious adults. "We want you to know that…"

Sam's voice became softer as Dean ascended the staircase, in search of Adam's room. Coming to the landing, he went to the door indicated and knocked softly.

"Who is it?" Adam's voice asked.

"It's Detective Owens. Can I come in, Adam?"

There was silence behind the closed door before the teen softly replied, "Yeah, you can come in."

Opening the door, Dean spotted the boy sitting at his desk, playing Solitaire on his computer. "How are you, Adam?"

Adam never looked up from his game. "I know you didn't come all the way out here to see how I was doing, Detective. You could have called me on the phone to ask that."

Dean chuckled. "It's Dean—and I _would_ like to know how you're doing."

The teen shrugged. "I'm okay."

Taking a deep breath, Dean took a seat on the trunk that sat in front of Adam's twin bed. "I thought you would like to know we found who was responsible for your mom and Micah's deaths."

Adam's hand froze around his mouse. "Really?"

"Yeah, dude…we got them."

Adam turned in his chair to finally face Dean. "How many?"

"There were two of them."

"Did they tell you why they did it?"

_Because your little brother happened to look like mine and they wanted revenge against us. _

Dean shook his head. "They didn't have a reason, Adam."

Adam frowned as he looked down at his feet.

You've got to understand that there are people out in the world that will do these kinds of things because they look at it as some kind of thrill. They don't care who they hurt and innocent people get caught in the crossfire. Like your mom and Micah."

Adam sniffed, but still remained silent.

"I wish this kind of evil had never touched you, Adam. I would give anything in the world to give your family back to you, but I know I can't do that," Dean gently continued. "The only thing I can do is assure you that they won't hurt you anymore."

Adam glanced up at him through teary eyes. "Did you arrest them?"

Dean could have lied and saved the kid from any more tales of bloodshed, but he felt Adam deserved the truth. "They're dead."

"Did you…" Adam's voice trailed off.

Dean nodded. "They were about to kill my partner—you remember the guy I was with earlier, right?"

Adam nodded. "Is he okay?"

Dean's lips quirked into a faint grin. "Yeah—he got hurt a little bit, but he's gonna be okay."

"I'm glad—he seems nice."

"He is," Dean agreed. "You remember what I said before about blaming yourself, don't you?"

Adam nodded again.

"I want you to keep that in mind. I don't want you blaming yourself for any of this, okay? Like I said, I know it's not gonna bring back your mom and little brother, but I'm hoping this can start to give you a little bit of closure," Dean said. "Now, I never got to meet your mom, but I know she would have wanted the best for you. She would want you to have a good life So make sure you do that, huh?"

The young teen sniffled as he nodded a third time. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean smiled. "You're welcome." Standing up, the hunter moved over to Adam's desk and jotted down something on a sheet of paper. "That's my phone number right there—if you ever need anything, you give me a call, okay? Even if it's just to talk…I'll listen."

Adam picked up the piece of paper and smiled.

Dean left the teen to himself and made his way downstairs to join Sam, who was waiting by the front door with Alice and Jonah. Alice reached out and grabbed Dean's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for what you've done for us," she said softly. "I know it won't bring my daughter and grandson back, but it's a start."

Dean nodded. "I'm just glad we could help."

He and Sam said their good-byes and made their way back to the Impala.

"Is Adam okay?" Sam asked as soon as they were seated in the car.

Dean didn't say anything for a while as he thought about the boy whose life had been destroyed so viciously and violently. It wasn't going to be an overnight fix, but just from sitting up there with Adam, Dean could tell the teen would eventually be okay.

"He will be," Dean finally answered.

Starting the Impala, Dean exchanged one more look with Sam before taking off.

_Everyone will be okay. Even you will be when I'm gone, Sammy. Maybe not immediately, but I know someday you'll be okay, little brother._


End file.
